Pride, Prejudice and Porcupines
by Mamabug
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that Morinozukas marry, then fall in love with, the person their parents choose for them. It's worked for a 1000 years and Takashi knows it will work for him too. But... her? Dyed hair, prickly attitude, a rebellious streak wider than the Tama river - it had to be a mistake. They were incompatible. They'd never make a good match. Right? Right?
1. The Thing That Goes 'Doink'

**A/N:** I don't know what it is, but I love an 'arranged marriage' plotline. Something about starting a couple off on the 'extreme' difficulty setting just appeals to me. This story is a bit different from my usual fare as I'm setting things during the manga instead of post-canon.

The difficult thing about trying to set a story which follows the events of the manga is that Bisco Hatori looped time back on itself at least twice over the course of the series. I'm taking that as the freedom to arrange the timeline as I need to. The story starts off in summer, after the battle of Kuruizawa and before the School Festival.

Warning up front - this is rated T for a reason. I don't do explicit scenes, but married people will do married things and there will be other T-14 content and references to potentially triggering situations. I may or may not put a warning in front of an particular chapter depending on how spoilerish it would be.

Last, but not least - standard disclaimers apply. Ouran and it's characters belong to Bisco Hatori. Support the mangaka - buy the books or the DVDs.

If you like, please R&R

* * *

 **"** _ **I scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building. Its principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive antiquity."**  
– Edgar Allen Poe, __The Fall of the House of Usher_

Natsumi stared up at the building looming above her. It was big.

No, not big. That was the kind of crappy, weak-ass adjective writing teachers went ballistic over. It was immense. Sprawling. Lavish. Something that bore more resemblance to an Edo era palace than a family home. And more than just a tad foreboding.

Who the hell was this guy?

Beside her, two men dressed like extras from _The Matrix_ stirred restlessly, as if any minute they'd take matters into their own hand and knock on the door themselves. Surprisingly, they hadn't shown the same enthusiasm in dropping her off as they had in escorting her into the car idling behind them. Probably had orders not to do anything that would make her look reluctant.

Why had Grandfather even thought they were necessary? It wasn't like she had anywhere else to go other than where he wanted her to. She hadn't even tried to run away from that *cough* _school_ *cough* he'd consigned her to for the month before her fateful sixteenth birthday. The place which had all the cheer and light of a standard Dickensian orphanage. The place which might as well have had the word 'Wayward' in between "The Satori School for" and "Girls."

Probably the henchmen were only there to guarantee she'd show up. To make sure it was known that _he_ hadn't been the one to break the contract.

Natsumi sucked in a lungful of air, threw back her shoulders and clutched the envelope in her right hand, adding more wrinkles to the once flawless paper. Enough equivocating - might as well get it over with. Hopefully, she'd be able to figure out a way not to have to be here for long. She'd been expelled from thirteen schools in three years, how hard could it be to get thrown out of a stuffy-looking place like this? The only trick would be in making sure it was the _other_ party who had to pay for breaking the agreement.

Piece. Of. Cake.

Stepping up to the pair of gleaming wooden doors carved in intricate patterns she looked around the frame in vain for anything as prosaic as a doorbell. Giving up with a shrug, she knocked.

The door opened before she'd rapped more than once. An elderly, kimono-clad gentleman opened the door just enough to block further entry and peered down at her with the pomposity only an old family retainer could muster. Scanning her from the bright pink bangs (roots grown out after a month without access to hair dye), down the God-awful, shapeless, navy sailor fuku (the height of fashion back in the Taisho era), to the tips of her ugly-as-sin penny loafers, his face took on a level of pinched disdain that rivaled an English butler.

"Can I help you?" He drawled in a voice that said he would gladly help her as far away from the door as was humanly possible.

His look, like she was something scraped off the bottom of a shoe, acted as a giant needle poking into the balloon of anger which had been roiling in her gut ever since the headmaster had called her into his office this morning and told her of her fate. She bristled – he had no right to cast judgement on her. _She_ wasn't the person insisting she be here. _She_ hadn't been the one to drag a sixteen-year-old girl halfway across Japan so some old guy could get his rocks off. _She_ wasn't the person in this scenario who should be regarded with contempt.

"Oi, gramps!" She threw his condescension back at him with force. "I'm Yoshida Natsumi and I'm here to marry Morinozuka-san. Gonna let me in now?"

She almost laughed at how quickly his face recomposed itself into implacability. "Of course, Yoshida-sama, please come in." The no-longer-sneering man bowed low, hitting the exact degree to show respect to the future wife of his master and not a centimeter further.

Her trepidation fled under the weight of the thinly banked rage settling over her like an old friend. Turning her head to call out over her shoulder, she waggled her fingers at her bodyguards with a smirk. "Thanks for the escort, boys." They melted away silently back to the limo, dropping her single piece of luggage on the doorstep as they departed.

Natsumi stepped over the doorstep into an entry way every bit as archaic as the exterior of the house. With her luck she'd wandered into some K-drama where crossing the threshold had thrown her back a thousand years in time. One with an arrogant, entitled jerk male lead that she'd end up falling for instead of the far more preferable, gentle, honorable second lead. Because time-travel apparently induced stupidity even in educated women who should know better.

Thankfully, a pair of sneakers amidst the cluster of shoes in the doorway assured her she was still in the twenty-first century.

The - butler? Majordomo? Grand Vizier? - provided her with a pair of guest slippers before ushering her down the wood-floored hallway. Ignoring his not-so-discrete attempt to hurry her along, Natsumi took the time to examine architecture she'd never seen outside of a historical site - where the crowds and harried school teachers trying to move their charges back outside before they destroyed a piece of their national heritage infringed on her ability to stare about like a yokel.

The hallway was bordered on the left side by two pairs of closed Shoji doors. Her hands itched to open them and peer inside, but she doubted her escort would allow that –even if she was his future mistress (alleged). Opposite the second set of doors, a hallway branched to her right and, if she craned her neck just so, she could see it led to a set of stairs leading up to the second floor.

When she finally conceded to complete the journey down the main hall, they emerged onto an engawa running the length of the exterior on the rear side of the house. The screens along the outside wall had been thrown open in the faint hope a summer breeze would stir the heavy air and defuse the heat of the August day.

Natsumi irritated her companion further by stopping to look around with blatant curiosity. Who knew when she'd get such a chance again?

The engawa headed off left down a corridor which looked long enough to fit at least three 18-mat tatami rooms before it veered at another 90-degree angle to run along the east wing. Not _side_ , wing. That was the kind of house this was – it had frickin _wings_.

The three sides of the house formed a blocky 'U' which framed a courtyard landscaped in - surprise, surprise – traditional Japanese style. Paved stepping stones led off in multiple directions, quickly disappearing behind flowering shrubs and brightly colored maples. Between the obscuring leaves, she caught a glimpse of water, hints of statuary and, far off in the distance past the edges of the house, larger trees that beckoned her to climb up and settle in their branches with a favorite book. It was like something out of a fantasy or a child's fairy tale.

It was almost enough to make her wish she could stay.

The retainer made a grumbling, coughing sound in his throat – a not so subtle hint that he wanted her to be somewhere else. Story of her life.

Opening a set of doors on the right, he gestured her to precede him into what was, for this house, a small room - merely eight tatami mats – containing a table, some cushions, and a beautiful, seasonal floral arrangement in an alcove set into the north wall.

"Please have a seat, Yoshida-sama. I will alert Morinozuka-sama to your presence." He crossed the room and opened the pair of screens on the outside wall which lead to another engawa and yet another garden. "I will bring you some tea while you wait."

Repressing a sigh at the lack of comfortable furniture, she dropped into seiza as gracefully as possible. "Don't bother," she replied more curtly than she intended. The beauty of the house had dispelled the resentment which had been carrying her through, leaving only agitation and a slightly queasy feeling behind.

Bowing, he exited the room and closed the doors behind him, leaving her with nothing to do but stare at the garden and brood. Well, try to brood. It was hard. The landscape beyond the open doors wasn't exactly brood-worthy. A good brood required sun-dappled forests brimming with shadows in which anything could lurk. Or jagged mountain peaks and gray skies threatening storms. Not a bunch of rocks that had been raked and combed within an inch of their lives. For Chrissake – there was even a thing that went 'doink.'

The steady 'doink' of the bamboo as it hit the rock echoed like the over-loud ticking of a clock as she waited. And waited. And kept waiting.

 _*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

 _*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

At some point the sound switched from annoying to relaxing and she settled deeper into seiza. She could hold this position for hours. Say what you would about Catholic nuns, but the sisters at her boarding school in Switzerland had _nothing_ on the headmaster at the last place. A man whose beliefs about discipline would have fit right in with the Imperial Japanese Army.

In the background, she heard the faint sound of voices coming from the room opposite her seat. Her intended groom? Probably. The room she was in screamed 'antechamber' and the room beyond was most likely his private domain.

The paper in her hand rustled as she gripped it even tighter.

 _*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

 _*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

The entire journey here, she had studiously avoided thinking about the cause for it. The reason she had been unceremoniously rousted from bed to find out she was leaving yet another school – although this time not at her instigation.

The sadistic, son-of-a-bitch abbot had practically gloated when he'd informed her that _'Due to your continual defiance and obstinacy, your grandfather, Maeda-sama, has determined that your need for discipline exceeds that of even this establishment. It pains me to admit that I agree. You don't need a school – you need a husband with a firm hand who can curb your recklessness. Your grandfather has arranged a marriage for you with a good family. One known for their adherence to the old ways. I encourage you to, for once in your life, accept your fate with graciousness and cease heaping dishonor on your family.'_

 _*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

 _*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

The worst thing was that she couldn't even disagree with what he'd said. Every accusation was true – she _was_ rebellious, stubborn, rash, wild… Between the fourteen schools she'd passed through from middle school until now, she'd heard all of that and more. And she'd deserved every one. But if whatever bastard Grandfather had found actually used that 'firm hand' on her, she'd take a knife to him.

The greasy, oily cannon-ball in her stomach grew heavier.

She couldn't believe she'd finally done it. Finally pushed her grandfather too far. Finally forced him to _act._ But… did he have to do _this?_ Had she really been that irredeemable? That much of a disappointment? She couldn't even answer that – he hadn't communicated with her in any way since she was six. No letters. No phone calls. Not even a stupid, chain email. The letter clutched in her hands was the closest she'd got, and even that was addressed to someone else.

 _*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

 _*gurgle, gurgle, gur..._

"Natsumi-chan!" The door to the other room slid open to admit another traditionally dressed gentleman. "I'm so glad you've finally come to visit!" Taking a seat opposite her, he gave a smile that could warm a room in December. "I'm sorry we weren't prepared for your arrival, your grandfather didn't inform us he'd finally agreed to let you spend your summer break with us."

Natsumi reeled, trying to process that this seemingly good-natured man was her intended. And that he was implying an acquaintance with her that went back further than this morning.

Noticing her confusion, his smile turned a bit sheepish. "Ah… sorry, I forgot that you most likely wouldn't remember meeting me. I'm Morinozuka Akira."

Before she could stammer so much as a 'nice to meet you' the doors to the hallway opened again, admitting a young woman carrying a tray with a tea pot, two cups, and a bowl of what looked like homemade rice crackers. She was wearing a yukata. Of course.

Natsumi was tempted to slip out her cell phone just to double check that the bars still worked.

While the servant prepared the tea, Natsumi took the time to study the person she was meant to spend her life with. He was… much better looking than she'd expected. For his age. He had to be at least forty, maybe fifty. Dark hair, kind eyes, a slight resemblance to Sanada Hiroyuki, with a dignified bearing that didn't come across as arrogant. Not at all the type of person who she would have expected as needing to arrange a marriage.

But then, it was probably his _tastes_ and not his looks which had necessitated taking such a step.

Thanking the servant for the tea, Natsumi sternly reminded herself that it didn't matter that something about him reminded her of the smell of cedar, the sharp crack of bamboo staves, and the weight of a large hand ruffling her hair. It didn't matter that he had a fatherly smile and sympathetic eyes. Any middle aged man who contracted to marry a sixteen-year-old girl was nothing less than a stone cold pedophile. He didn't deserve _any_ deference from her. Any cooperation.

The maid departed and Morinozuka gestured at Natsumi to drink her tea. Selecting a rice cracker from the bowl, she bit into it. Definitely homemade – and very tasty – but it didn't settle her stomach. She could feel it, that dark, churning mass of emotion deep within, driving her to do… something. Anything. Anything that would make it stop. Anything that would let it ebb for just a little while.

"Does my grandfather owe you money?" She cursed herself the minute the question left her mouth but knew she wouldn't stop now that she'd started. She never could. Akira's eyes widened and she pressed on before he could reply. "Or did you pay him instead? I'm just curious, what does a teenage bride go for these days?"

The way his eyes crossed as his tea went down his wind-pipe was immensely satisfying to watch. For the first time since the day started, she felt a slim margin of control over her own life.

Morinozuka pounded on his chest with his fist and discretely coughed into a handkerchief. "I think... I think there's been a mistake. Natsumi-chan, are you..." He paused to thump on his breastbone again. "Are you under the impression that _I'm_ your fiancée?"

The feeling of control vanished like mist. "Ano… are... aren't you?" The letter in her hands grew more creases as she wrung it like the neck of a chicken. "I… I just…" The nausea was back, this time tinged with panic. She'd been so caught up in fighting against her grandfather's edict, in lashing out at being married off to a pervy old man, that she hadn't even stopped to consider what it might mean to offend him. If he threw her out, if it were _her fault_ that he threw her out, would there even be a place for her to go to?

Recovering from his coughing fit, Akira settled back on his heels, his face rearranging itself from startled to empathic. "Natsumi-chan, just what did you're grandfather tell you?"

"He didn't tell me anything." She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "The headmaster only told me that I was leaving school to be married."

She saw his fist tighten against his thigh and he turned his head to the side so she couldn't see his expression. Under his breath, he muttered what sounded like 'stubborn, old goat' before turning back to face her. "That letter you're holding onto for dear life, is that meant for me?" he asked in a tone generally reserved for talking people off a roof.

She nodded, sliding the crumpled paper across the table towards him. Opening it, he silently read though the contents, his mouth thinning into a straighter and straighter line with each word. "Damn that man," he said when done, shaking his head back and forth.

"Please, drink your tea." He motioned her to imbibe with the palm of his hand. "I would guess this has all come as a shock to you. Allow me to try and straighten things out. For one thing, the marriage contract wasn't arranged by your grandfather, but by your father, and it's not with me but with my son, Takashi. Don't worry." His eyes twinkled benevolently. "He's about your age. The two of you have been betrothed practically since birth."

Mention of her father threw her, made it impossible to hold on to the fury she'd been using as armor. She didn't remember much, she'd been so young when he died, but she'd filled the hole he'd left with countless girlish fantasies built around him. Around 'what if.'

"Your father was my kohai both at university and on the kendo team." Akira's face took on the distant look old people had when they started reminiscing. "He was one of the finest kendo-ka I've ever competed with. Or against. In my family, arranged marriages are the norm and, when I discovered Ryuu-kun's firstborn would be a girl, it felt like destiny."

His jaw clenched, slightly – but enough for Natsumi to register his annoyance. "I don't know why Maeda-san never told you any of this. You shouldn't have had to find out this way. Normally, you would have spent some of your school breaks with us. The two of you would have grown-up together. Gotten used to each other. But your grandfather refused every invitation…" With a sharp shake of his head, he cut himself off.

One deep breath later, the clouds had been chased off his face and the sunny smile returned. "Anyway, the past is in the past. What matters is that you are here now." He brandished the letter he'd been holding in his hand. "And it looks like your grandfather plans for you to stay. It's a bit late in the school year for a transfer, but I'm sure we can arrange for you to attend Ouran Academy with my sons despite that." Natsumi heard a faint 'scuff' from the hallway and Akira turned towards the door. "That must be our Takashi now. We can talk more later, I'm sure you have several questions and I would very much like the chance to get to know you better."

She was saved from having to respond to his uncomfortable solicitousness when the door slid open yet again, revealing a definitely-not-middle-aged man standing on the threshold. Unlike everyone else she'd met, he wasn't dressed as if he was starring in a period drama, although the black slacks and royal blue dress-shirt still smacked of formality. Then her eyes drifted up to his face and all thoughts of his wardrobe vanished.

He was the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

Damn it. Not handsome – another weak-ass adjective. Weak was NOT something this guy deserved. Besides, _handsome_ just didn't cut it. His attractiveness wasn't the androgynous, pretty-boy look everyone seemed to go for nowadays. His was old school. A real, old fashioned manliness that wouldn't be out of place in a Kurosawa film – like a young Nakadai Tatsuya or Hayakawa Sessue. In short, he was the man of her dreams.

Or rather, the _men_.

The dark, slightly disheveled hair of Mr. Darcy framed Rochester's stern looks and heavy brow from under which the gentle eyes of Gilbert Blythe peered out. Nose, cheekbones, and chin gave him a mien which balanced the stoic reserve of John Thornton with the patient steadiness of Almanzo Wilder, yet his soft, full lips held a hint of wildness and temptation to sin worthy of Heathcliff himself. And his body? Oh lord, his body was ALL the adjectives – from alluring right on down to yummy.

Natsumi's heart dropped right past the pit in her stomach, through the floor, and accelerated down towards the center of the earth. If this was supposed to be her fiancée, she had to be careful. Had to make sure to keep him at a distance while she tried to figure out how to get out of this and still have a place to call... no, not home. Her grandfather's house had never been her home in any sense of the word. Until she found a place to keep the rain out, then. Because if she didn't? If she let him get too close - it was going to hurt like hell when he abandoned her.

It always did.

* * *

Chapter titles are taken from common tropes. I'll put the explanation in the notes.

 **Chapter Title Trope Referenced:** "The Thing That Goes Doink," used '...to establish that a Big Fancy House belongs to a family that is both traditionally Japanese and exceedingly wealthy...' (ref. TV Tropes)


	2. Yamato Nadeshiko

_**Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.  
**_ _\- A Wild Sheep Chase, Murakami Haruki_

Stepping out of the limo, Takashi rolled back his shoulders to ease the ache in his scapula and trapezius muscles. Practice had gone well, he was proud of his team. He'd pushed them hard in preparation of the upcoming competitive season but they had met his challenge full force. Rubbing the back of his neck and stretching it from side-to-side, he cast an unhappy glance at the clouds above him which, instead of giving relief, only seemed to trap the humidity in.

Early August and already the temperatures were climbing up past 30-degrees. It would be nice to be back Karuizawa, where the mountain air was 5 degrees cooler, relaxing with the rest of his friends. But the Host Club was for his own enjoyment, the Kendo team was his responsibility. He'd had to leave first - the team only allowed one week of free time before resuming an intense thrice-weekly practice schedule. They had a national title to defend, after all.

The other club members wouldn't miss him much anyway, except for Mitsukuni. They were all too busy trying to attract Haruhi's attention.

Satoshi stumbled out of the car beside him and began his own, slightly more dramatic, stretches. "Ouch! You were tough today, Onii-san," Satoshi said without rancor. During summer break, the middle school team joined their seniors' training once a week to practice competing against unfamiliar opponents. "Wanna hit the outdoor bath?"

"Too hot." The driver came around from the back and handed them their _shinai_ cases. With a nod of thanks, Takashi walked to the front door and let himself inside.

Two steps into the _genkan_ , his mother fluttered around the corner that led upstairs to the family's private quarters. "Takashi! Takashi, hurry – she's here!"

He continued taking off his shoes, waiting for his mother's words to inevitably catch up to her thoughts.

Morinozuka Kazumi shook her head as if to clear it. "Oh, what am I thinking – let me start at the beginning." She turned eyes brimming with excitement on him. "Natsumi-chan's here. She just arrived this afternoon."

His heart leapt up once before settling down. Forcing himself to stay calm, he placed his shoes so they faced out towards the door, and stepped up into the house.

"Takashi-nii's bride?" Satoshi peered around his brother's back. "Where? I want to meet her!"

"That will have to wait for dinner, your brother should be the first to say his greetings." She exhaled in a huff. "I don't know what her grandfather was thinking, not giving any notice like that. I don't have anything special prepared for dinner at all – and it's her birthday! We were just going to have _somen_ and grilled mackerel _._ Oh! Satoshi, run over to the Haninozukas and see if Mitsukuni left them with any cakes before going on vacation.

"A cake should be enough, don't you think?" She peered at her sons uncertainly, her hands continuing to dance in the air like a dragonfly's wings. "Maybe I can send someone to the market for _unagi…_ " With a shake of her head, she set the thoughts of meal preparation to one side and pushed ineffectually against the son who towered almost a full 40 centimeters over her. "Takashi, why are you still here? Go get changed. Ewww!" Getting a whiff of him, she wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of her face. "But take a shower first, you stink of kendo."

"Hn." He nodded, heading up the stairs to his room. Once inside, he shut the door and leaned back against it, taking deep breaths to center himself.

She was here! After all this time, he finally would see her again. His lips turned up at least a quarter of a centimeter on both sides – look at him, so excited he was practically giddy. Taking another breath, he forced tension out of his shoulders and tried to quiet his racing heart. It had been so long since their last meeting that he might as well be making a first impression all over again. It had to be a good one. The last thing he wanted was to come across as over-eager – girls didn't seem to like that.

Stepping into the shower, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd be the same as he remembered. With a head shake that sent water droplets spattering against the tile, he corrected himself. Of course, she would. People grew and matured, but their essential character remained the same. He just knew that the girl he'd met so many years ago would be as perfect now as she was back then.

~oOoOo~

 _ **Ten Years Ago**_

" _Akira-sempai, I'm glad you could come." The brown-haired stranger was almost as tall as his father, but the young boy noted he was much thinner. Almost scrawny. "I'm sorry for putting you through the trouble."_

" _It was no trouble, Ryuu-kun." Even at eight, Takashi could see the pain behind his father's smile. "I had business in Osaka anyway and thought it would be a good chance for these two to meet." Akira gestured between his eldest son and the girl standing by her father's side before turning to address the children next to him. "Boys, I'd like you to meet my kohai, Yoshida Ryuu."_

 _Takashi bowed low, introducing himself in the most formal way he knew how. It was important to get this right. Important that both the girl and her father think well of him. As far back as he could remember, he'd known that one day he and Yoshida Natsumi would be husband and wife. It was all arranged, just like his parents' marriage had been. And his grandparents', and his aunts', uncles', cousins', and every Morinozuka's ever - stretching all the way back to the sons of Morinozuka Goro himself. Back to the days when Oda Nobunaga ruled._

 _After Satoshi's polite 'nice to meet you,' Yoshida returned their greeting and prompted his children to do the same. Natsumi softly said her name and bowed her head, ducking it so fast Takashi barely got a look at her - only a quick impression of big brown eyes peering out of a tiny face, putting him in mind of a docile animal. A bunny, maybe, or a doe. Wrapping her arm around the little boy next to her, Natsumi studied the three Morinozuka men from under lowered lashes._

 _Definitely a doe, Takashi decided – skittish and wary of strangers but protective of her younger family members._

 _When it was his turn, her brother refused to speak, clenching his jaw and jutting out his lower lip. Natsumi's hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his head, pushing it down in a bow. "This is my brother, Tastsuya." Her eyes communicated an apology for his rudeness and Takashi's good impression of her only grew._

" _Congratulations, Sempai, I heard you'll represent Tokyo in the All Japan Kendo Championship this year," said her father once introductions were complete. The longer sentence gave him trouble and he coughed violently into his handkerchief, struggling for breath._

 _Akira patiently waited for him to finish, politely not talking over his ragged exhalations. "It would be better if I could meet you there in the finals, like we'd always planned."_

 _The other adult shrugged and smiled with only one side of his mouth. "What was it Takahira-sensei used to say – after rain falls, the ground hardens?" His smile faded. "Although lately it feels more like a deluge that washes away all in its path."_

" _Takashi," said the elder Morinozuka, "It's a nice day. Why don't the four of you go play. Adult talk is always boring for children."_

 _Takashi inclined his head, obedient to his father's discretely worded command, and ushered his charges towards the playground and away from the bench which the two men sat down at._

" _Onee-chan, I don't wanna play," whined Tatsuya when they were out of earshot, stomping his foot for emphasis, "It's cold. I wanna go home."_

 _Both Morinozuka brothers raised their eyebrows at this. Even though it was October, the temperature was still above 20 – easily 5 degrees higher than Tokyo._

" _I know, Tatsu-chan, but please be good!" Casting her eyes back to where their fathers were engaged in an intense conversation, she lowered her voice. "Papa's been looking forward to seeing his friend all week. If we go now, he'd be sad."_

 _Tatsuya crossed his arms and his pout deepened._

 _Satoshi bounced up next to the unhappy child. "Tatsuya-kun, let's go down the slide! I know how to go really, really fast. I'll show you!"_

 _The younger boy shook his head violently back and forth. "Don't wanna. Slides are scary."_

" _How about the sandbox," his sister wheedled, "We can build a fort and play siege. You like that."_

" _No. That's all dirty."_ _He sneered. "Oji-chan says only_ peasants _get their hands dirty."_

 _Natsumi's lower lip quivered and Takashi wanted to scold the little boy for being so troublesome. "Please, Tatsu-chan," she whispered, hitching her voice on a sob, "Please be good for Papa. If… if you play nicely until it's time to go, I'll… I'll ask him to get us some_ dango _on the way home…." Her voice trailed off pleadingly._

" _Ice cream," he countered, "I want ice cream." Smugness washed over him when she nodded. Takashi guessed this had been his goal all along._

" _Thank you, Tatsu-chan, thank you," she said, more grateful than she should be to the little beast._

" _I wanna play on the swings," declared the little emperor, "Onee-chan, push me!"_

 _She started to head towards the swings, but Takashi stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Satoshi can push." Silently, his eyes asked the youngest Morinozuka to take charge of the misbehaving child._

 _Satoshi beamed back. "Sure thing, Onii-san!" He grabbed Tatsuya's arm and pulled him toward the swing set before the younger child could act up again._

" _Spoiled." Takashi stated under his breath._

 _Natsumi whirled on him, hands clenched into fists at her side. "He is not! He just… he just acts a bit babyish sometimes. He only just turned four!"_

" _Satoshi's four too." His brother would turn five in a couple of months, making him almost a full year older, but even last year he never acted like that. Satoshi was a good kid._

 _Tears gathered at the edge of her eyes, threatening to spill over and guilt hit him like a_ bokken _to the stomach. He hadn't liked the way the boy treated his sister, but all he was doing by saying anything was make her feel bad. "I'm sorry." He ducked his head. "I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it."_

 _As fast as her fury had appeared, it vanished. "No. It's okay." She bit her lip and watched the ground. "I know he's spoiled. But…"_ _Her shoulders curved inwards, making her seem even tinier, reminding him of the kitten he'd found abandoned in the park last winter – straggly and cold and needing someone to protect it. "But Papa works hard so he's too tired to play when he comes home and Mama… all Mama does anymore is cry. Tatsu-chan doesn't know any different but I had two whole years with them before… before…"_

 _She shrugged and let the sentence die. "If I spoil him, it's to make up for that. To make up for the fact that he only has me to take care of him."_

" _Who takes care of you?" Takashi asked quietly._

" _Silly!" She laughed and shook his question off. "I'm the big sister. I take care of myself."_

 _He opened his mouth to say that he'd take care of her. That he'd chase the shadows away from her eyes. She was his bride so that was his job, right? But, he was only eight. He couldn't make her any promises – not yet. Not until he grew up. So, he said it the only way he could. "Let's play."_

 _Her face lit up and then fell again. "I should watch my brother."_

" _Satoshi will watch him." He nodded to where Tatsuya seemed to be playing happily with the other boy now that ice cream was involved._

 _Her teeth worried her lower lip again. It was kind of cute. "Okay. Maybe for a little bit."_

 _Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he tugged her to the opposite end of the playground from the swings._ _She dug her heels into the play chips. "Where are we going?"_

" _The merry-go-round." When he'd suggested they play, her eyes had gone straight toward it._

 _All resistance ceased and soon they were racing for it hand in hand._

" _Get on, I'll get it started," he offered when they arrived. She jumped up to stand on the edge, facing towards the center, and held the railing tight with both hands._

 _Takashi grabbed the rail to her right and began running counter-clockwise with all his might. The merry-go-round went faster, and faster, and faster still. Natsumi leaned back as far as she could go. As it picked up speed, she dropped her right hand off the bar, stretching it out and angling her body into the wind._

" _Takashi-kun, it's wonderful!" she cried, "Get on!"_

 _He jumped on the toy, stretching himself flat on the bottom so he could feel the vibrations rumbling all up and down his spine and cushioning his head on his hands so he could watch her. The wind whipped her hair around her like a cloud. Rather than cringing from it, she somehow stretched her arms even wider as if to embrace it, tilted her head back and laughed._

 _Right then and there, Takashi lost his heart._

~ooOoO~

That had been the last time, the only time, they had ever met. A few months later, her father died and she was sent to boarding school in Switzerland. While waiting for the day they'd come face-to-face again, he'd treasured that one memory like a precious jewel – tucking it in a deep, hidden corner of his soul and bringing it out as needed to examine it. Each time, discovering some new beauty in it.

While other boys his age had obsessed over _gravure_ idols or become infatuated with their classmates, his dreams had been grounded in reality. Built around the woman who would be his wife. A woman who was kind, modest, and dutiful. Who had a gentle spirit, yet would fight for those she loved like a tigress. One who possessed the kind of inner strength that let her stare the wind down and laugh. A true _yamato nadeshiko –_ a flower of Japanese womanhood.

Shower over, he wrapped a towel around his waist while assessing his closet. He should wear his _hakama_ , it would be traditional for a first formal meeting, but it would probably be too much. Too close to wedding clothes. It was only a summer visit, after all. He didn't want to freak her out. Still, the occasion did call for something nicer than the athletic wear he typically wore. Flipping through hangers, he settled on a pair of slacks and a dress shirt.

After one last futile attempt to get his hair to lie flat, he headed downstairs to meet his destiny.

~oOoOo~

Her hair was pink.

And blue. Green. Purple. Some orange. And every other color imaginable. But, besides the roots, the closest thing to a natural color was the strand of fire engine red behind her right ear. Cumulatively, it didn't look dyed so much as what you would get if you gave a toddler a box of crayons.

Where had the girl from his memories gone? Had she really changed that much or were his memories only an illusion? A fantasy built up over time.

While the son studied the sullen figure sitting across from him, the father shouldered the burden of facilitating a conversation between someone who wasn't good with words and someone who didn't want to talk. "Takashi, Natsumi-chan's grandfather has sent her to live with us. Now that both of you are of age, he sees no reason to delay the marriage."

"Hn."

With relief, Takashi noted her face was just as cute – tiny and heart-shaped with delicate features and skin as luminescent as a pearl – then he immediately felt ashamed. Looks weren't important. Or they shouldn't be. Not when compared to character. But a part of him whispered that it wasn't a bad thing to be attracted to your wife.

And he most definitely was.

Although the dress she wore was shapeless, it poked out in all the right places. Estimating her height, he placed her at a couple of centimeters taller than Honey and shorter than Haruhi. Just his type – tiny and curvy with big brown eyes.

But her hair was pink!

"I don't see any reason to rush things, though." Akira continued in what had become a monologue. "Arranged marriages may be our family tradition, but _child_ marriages aren't. Natsumi-chan we'll be pleased to have you stay with us while you finish high school. Think of it as a good opportunity for the two of you to become acquainted. For all of us to get to know you better."

"Mmm."

The eyes. That was where the real difference was. What made it impossible for him to reconcile the past Natsumi with the present. No longer soft and gentle, they observed the world from behind a wall. He couldn't help thinking of the time he'd come across a squirrel that had won the fight to escape a neighborhood dog before collapsing on the ground from its injuries. As he'd wrapped it in his blazer to take to the vet, its eyes held that same far-off stare. As if looking at something only they could see.

"I suppose you've both had enough of an old man blathering on." Akira's voice was tinged with amusement. "Okaa-san should have dinner ready soon, Takashi why don't you show Natsumi-can around so she knows where everything is."

"Yes, Otou-san." They both rose to their feet and Takashi motioned for her to precede him out the door.

She didn't say a word, either of acknowledgement or thanks or leave taking.

Outside the audience room, he gestured down the hallway to his right. "My father's office is next door. Down around the corner from it is a meditation room. Feel free to use it anytime. It and the rest of this wing are also open to the students and servants who live here." Her nose wrinkled slightly at the word 'meditation' before she caught herself and resumed her air of indifference.

"These four rooms are for entertaining and meetings," he pointed at the two doors down the hall toward the front door and the first two along the _engawa_ running the length of the main section. "The third door at the end is the dining room. We have both family and formal meals there. Across the hall, in the corner of the east wing, is the kitchen."

Natsumi didn't even nod, just filed it all away as impassively as Kyoya at his most opaque.

Turning to a side cupboard, he pulled out two pairs of outdoor shoes and handed the smaller set to her. "I'll show you the garden." Was it his imagination, or did the edge of her mouth lift up the smallest amount? He didn't think so - her speed at sitting down on the edge of the _engawa_ to trade out her slippers bordered on eager.

Winding their way through the gardens, he had to walk slow. Natsumi kept trailing behind and he'd turn around to catch her stopped in the middle of the path, eyes roaming over some feature he'd walked past so many times he'd ceased to notice it. He was glad she didn't look at him. If she had, she would have caught the faint smile on his face, seen his pleasure that something was able to stir her feelings. Instinct warned him that the minute she realized she'd allowed something to slip past her guard she'd quickly shutter it away again. When they walked by the pond, she stared for five full minutes at the Koi gathering around the edge – trained by years of experience to associate a human shadow with food. This time her apathy fell away enough for the tiniest of smiles to appear before returning so quick he wasn't sure it had ever left at all.

Past the gardens were the dojos. "Classes for advanced students are held in the two larger buildings; the smaller one in the middle is for family use and private lessons. Back behind the trees is the dormitory for the servants and students who live here full time. Next to it is an outdoor bath you can use, but check with father or mother first. There are a lot of men about the estate."

A kendo class was in progress in the west dojo, the sharp crack of bamboo swords hitting against each other and bellowed _kiai_ wafted out of the wide open windows and doors. Natsumi's steps faltered as they neared, her head turning as if drawn by an invisible rope. As if she couldn't help but peek inside. "Your father was a kendo-ka. Did he train you?" It was the first personal question he'd asked.

She shrugged, not looking at him. "Maybe. I don't remember."

"Do you want to learn?"

The eyes that flew to his face glowed with anticipation. For a second, he thought he'd found the girl from his memory again, but the light was quickly extinguished and she looked away. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"Hn?"

"You don't have to try and be nice to me. I mean – this is the twenty-first century, not the Edo era. An arranged marriage? It's archaic. Like something out of a badly written Victorian novel. So, it's okay. I'm not expecting you to act like a doting boyfriend or anything. I'm sure you don't want to marry a stranger any more than I do. I bet if we just ride this out, the whole thing will get called off soon, anyway."

Takashi could only stand there and blink while his mind reeled. Over the years he'd worried her feelings might be slower to develop than his. Worried that they might not ever meet again until they were adults. Even worried (just once but he still felt shame over it) that she might not be pretty anymore. But never once had he thought she might not want this.

Or that he might be having second thoughts himself.

He wanted to say that this was his family's tradition and he believed in it. That for over a thousand years, this way had been successful. That Morinozukas married then fell in love with the person their parents chose for them.

But he held back.

Maybe she had changed or maybe he just didn't remember things the way they were. But all the traits he'd admired about her, that he'd expected to see in her, were nowhere to be found. Or buried so deep they might as well not exist. Without compatibility, without mutual commitment – was a successful match even possible?

A small tendril of doubt wound its way around his heart like a strangling vine, choking off the faith which had always sustained him. Perhaps, just perhaps, his parents had made a mistake.

Unable to say any of that, what he said instead was, "We've met."

That seemed to throw her, uncertainty softening her jaded eyes. "We did? When?"

"Ten years ago. In Osaka. You were…" Different. Sweeter. More hopeful. "…younger."

"Oh." She twirled a green strand of hair around her fingers before tucking it back behind her ear. "That was long ago. I don't really remember much from back then." Somehow he knew she was lying. "Well, that doesn't really change things, though, does it?" For the first time, she smiled - a tight, bleak lifting of the lips. "Look, I'll promise to stay out of your way and you can stay out of mine. You seem a nice guy - tall and good-looking, too - you probably have your pick of girls. You don't want to be saddled with someone like me. Don't worry, I don't think I'll be here to bother you much longer."

Overwhelmed with conflicting thoughts and feelings, he couldn't sort them out fast enough to respond.

"I'm tired, it was a long trip, and I'm not very hungry. I'm just going to go to bed." Turning to walk back to the house, she stopped him when he made a move to follow. "It's okay, you don't need to escort me. I'll ask one of the servants to show me to my room."

He watched her until she vanished down the path, confusion and doubt warring within him. For the first time in his life, the future stretched before him was filled with uncertainty.

And he didn't like it one bit.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks to everyone who's already favorited or followed this story and especially to those who've left a review.

 **Chapter Title Trope Referenced:** "Yamato Nadeshiko," defined as a 'Traditional Japanese ideal woman: submissive, but not a pushover.' (ref. TV Tropes)

Some review responses:

 **lillyannp -** Mori's POV – asked and granted. I'll be switching between them within chapters (and also Honey, Reiko, and maybe even a bit of Kasanoda) as the story goes on. Glad you liked the bamboo thingy. I pulled some of the 'feel' for the house from the mansion in _Kazuma no Stigma_ , but built my own floorplans.

 **Storz** , **Katmar1994, Dei,** and **Unraveling E's Soul** – Over this first arc, I'll be revealing a lot of the backstory explaining Natsumi, her grandfather's, and even Akira's behavior. And, yeah, Takashi and Natsumi are both going to be in for it.

 **Germanwriter** and **Ghostly Guest** \- *blushes*. I really hope this story can live up to your expectations.


	3. Hidden Depths

_**I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book!  
**_ _\- Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen_

Book in hand, Natsumi slipped out the back door and scurried down the garden path, hoping she'd gone far enough for the foliage to shield her from view. She wasn't trying to hide or anything – it was just a lovely morning and the trees back behind the dojos looked inviting. It would be relaxing to while away the day reading up in the branches, that's all.

" _Anata_ , have you seen Natsumi-chan?" trilled a high-pitched soprano from the west wing, "I wanted to take her shopping. Only one suitcase, can you believe it? A teenage girl needs more clothes than that."

Shit. Natsumi ducked behind a flowering Japanese quince. Okay, so she was hiding. She had to, the family was just so damn… _nice_! It was self-defense.

They all acted as if they were genuinely excited about her being there - well, except for her taciturn groom who mostly pretended he wasn't surreptitiously checking her out - and they just wouldn't leave her alone. Last night, even though she'd pleaded fatigue, the mother had managed to guilt her down to dinner anyway, turning her every excuse against her in some advanced form of verbal Jiu-Jitsu. Next, the father had spent the entire meal telling story after story about his and Ryuu's college days. And _then_ they'd gone and celebrated her birthday.

Her birthday!

The last person to do that had been a house mother who felt sorry for the foreign kid stuck at school between terms. She'd been ten.

It didn't make any sense. They were rich enough that they had to have done a background check and, no matter who her father was to them, she shouldn't have been let past the front gate. That they might know everything and still want her as a daughter-in-law was too terrifying to even contemplate.

Because, sooner or later, she was going to screw it up.

It wasn't like she had _tried_ to be expelled from thirteen schools in three years. At least six or seven of them had been tolerable, two more had been places she'd wanted to stay. But somehow, even if she tried to behave, she soon found herself doing something that had her unceremoniously dumped on a train, plane, or car ride to somewhere else. As welcoming as the Morinozukas seemed, she had to keep her distance. Because whoever had said _'it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'_ was an idiot. It was far, far better not to get attached in the first place.

"No, I haven't," Akira answered his wife as Natsumi cowered behind a bush, "I'm sure she's around somewhere. Perhaps, she just needs some time to herself for a bit. Finding out you've been engaged for sixteen years without realizing it is a lot to process."

"I suppose." Kazumi sounded like a little kid denied a cookie. "It's just so nice to have someone around the place who doesn't dress in track suits and smell of the dojo." Natsumi's eyes were drawn down to the plain white t-shirt and black school running shorts she'd thrown on. Not exactly a track suit, but… The soft thud of someone dropping into _seiza_ was accompanied by a loud, dramatic sigh. "Ah! Every time I think of it, I just get so angry. It was bad enough _that man_ didn't let her visit, but not to have even told her…"

"Kazu-chan…" The endearment held a note of rebuke.

"Oh, I know. I know – I shouldn't speak ill of Takashi's in-laws, but really!" Determining the elder Morinozukas were occupied, Natsumi started to sneak away. "I even invited her mother over for tea this weekend and was told by a servant that she wasn't available. A servant! You'd think we were beggars the way they act."

Mama? They'd been in touch with her mama? Natsumi froze in her tracks, desperate to hear more. None of her letters, none of her calls had been answered since the day a maid had put her on the plane to Switzerland. Any word of how her mother and brother were doing was yet another piece of information withheld by her grandfather.

Akira grunted. "Maeda Tatsuo is stubborn, inflexible, and thinks his family still holds the prominence it did under Tokugawa. The only thing he wants from us is our name. Our lineage. Since the engagement contract is signed, he sees no reason to act towards us with more than the most basic civility. And the only thing Shizuko-chan ever defied her father over was Ryuu-kun."

"Hmph! It's just not right - no matter how much you try to explain it to me." Another exaggerated sigh _._ "I've been so looking forward to having a daughter - is it such a bad thing to want to spoil her?"

There was a thump and a rustling sound and an outraged cry of, "Aki!"

"So cute." Akira's voice rumbled low and smooth. "My little tiger's found another cub to protect."

"Mmm… Aki…."

Natsumi duck-walked away as quickly as she could, breaking into a jog as soon as it was safe enough to stand. It was one thing to eavesdrop on things related to her but another to peep on a couple's… _intimate_ moments. Besides, the whole conversation left her feeling like a cannonball had taken up permanent residence in her stomach.

The coast seemed clear as she charted her way past the koi pond toward the oak tree dominating the stretch of land behind the dojos. The one with limbs that curled and dipped and climbed like something in a story written by an author who only used their first initials. The one that should have a name starting with a capital letter and be inhabited by an entire colony of magical folk. The one that beckoned for her to crawl up as high as she could, nestle her back against the solid trunk, and lose herself in another world.

Halfway there, her feet slowed to a stop. A rhythmic chanting wafted out of the smallest building, the one set aside for family use. It tugged at her memory, like a half-forgotten lullaby. Quietly, she tip-toed up on to the _engawa_ , careful to avoid being spotted through the open window. Contorting her body into a half-crouch, she poked her head up over the window sill and gasped.

Takashi, clad in a _gi_ and _hakama_ of such a dark blue they were nearly black, stood in the center of the room in a beam of sunlight. Dust motes twirled and danced around him as he lifted his bamboo sword over his head while stepping forward, brought it down with a swift motion and a shout while bringing his feet together, and then repeated the action in the opposite direction.

Mesmerized, she forgot her caution and lifted her head higher. It was repetitive, yet done with such complete and utter focus it transformed each swing into something unique. A discrete act, complete and perfect, an intersection of strength and grace. Transfixed by the beauty of it, Natsumi couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Spying on my brother?"

Her yelp reverberated off the corridor between the buildings and she jumped back so fast only Satoshi's quick reflexes kept her from whacking him in the chin with her head. The figure inside didn't alter his routine in the slightest.

"No, I…" Curiosity overwhelmed her caution. "What is he doing?"

" _Suburi._ Practice swings for Kendo," he explained. Satoshi's eyes grew wide in adoration. "Onii-san does _two thousand_ of them every day!"

She choked back on a snicker, Satoshi's brother worship was kind of adorable. "So… I guess that's a lot, then?"

His head bobbed enthusiastically, oblivious to her sarcasm. "Most people try for five hundred to a thousand. I can do fifteen hundred but I've been practicing since I was three. What's really amazing about Onii-san is that his last swing is as perfect as his first!"

Natsumi turned her head to hide her smile. Of all the family, this one was the hardest to guard against. Something about him induced an urge to pat him on the head. Or feed him a cookie.

Tilting her head, she watched Takashi execute a few more swings. "Oh, that's why it seemed familiar," she murmured to herself, "I think I remember watching Papa do those." The memory was vague, nothing more than hazy images and half-remembered sounds. She couldn't have been more than four or five at the time.

"Otou-san says your father was one of the best." Natsumi jerked out of her reverie and swung back around to face the boy. "Why haven't you trained? Don't you want to?" He asked softly, as if the very idea that she wouldn't want to follow in her father's footsteps shocked him.

It was a line of questioning she usually shut down. Hard. But, staring into the open, genuine face of the youngest Morinozuka, Natsumi just couldn't find it in her to be rude. Being mean to him would be like kicking an over-sized, adolescent Black Lab. "I tried to take classes once. The headmistress said my grandfather refused permission – he doesn't think martial arts are ladylike."

Satoshi snorted. "Don't let my parents here you say that," he grinned, "My father says he fell in love when Okaa-san won a college championship final with the most perfect _men_ cut he'd ever seen."

Natsumi lips twitched, her imagination caught by the image of her grandfather trying to tell the small, bird-like woman who carried herself with the grace of an empress that kendo wasn't _ladylike._ She'd probably decapitate him with an _ikebana_ arrangement. "I thought your parents had an arranged match?"

"Yeah, of course. My grandmothers were best friends and always dreamed of uniting their families."

"But…." She wasn't sure how to articulate what she wanted to ask. Not without being offensive. She'd attended boarding schools for the privileged all her life, she was no stranger to arranged marriages. But those polite, business-like unions were a world apart from the fondness, and the passion, she'd witnessed between Akira and Kazumi.

"Oh! I get it." Satoshi's eyes widened as he grasped what she didn't say. "We're not like other families," he explained, "Our parents don't pick a marriage partner to cement a business relationship or a family alliance. They pick the person they think is best for us. Love is… kind of expected."

The whole idea was just plain weird. And strangely seductive. She'd never been considered 'best' for anything, let alone anyone. But, before she could allow the illusion to take hold, reality gave her a sharp slap. She'd been engaged as a baby, before she had a personality at all. Satoshi painted a romantic picture, but it was false. A pretty lie passed on as family tradition. A brief surge of disappointment coiled around her heart but she ruthlessly pushed it aside.

The minute she forgot that she was no good was the minute she set herself up for heartbreak.

"Well, I was just going to…" She waved the arm holding her book in the direction of the tree line, trying to find a way to extricate herself from the conversation before it became even more uncomfortable.

"What's this?" Satoshi snatched the book out of her hand with lightning speed. "Oh, wow! Your English is good enough to read a full novel?"

"Uh… yeah. I attended British boarding schools for a few years. And Swiss. But they were for international students so most of the instruction was in English."

"So cool! That's my worst subject. Onii-san gets top marks in both that _and_ Mandarin." Satoshi dropped down on the _engawa_ and swung his feet back and forth of the edge. "I always thought boarding school would be fun. Hanging out with your roommates, prank wars, inter-house rivalries, sneaking out after curfew - just like Hari Potta!"

"Eh, it was more like _'Lord of the Flies'_ most of the time." He still had her book so she was forced to sit next to him. "Although, if you take away the magic, Hogwarts is just a bunch of kids confined to a drafty castle in the middle of nowhere with a near criminal lack of adult supervision. So, about the same I guess."

"I think I'd miss my family too much, though." Satoshi rambled on, taking no notice of her cynicism. "But if Yasuchika was there, and Takashi-nii and Mitsukuni-nii too, then it would be okay. Did you?"

She blinked. He was giving her conversational whiplash. "Did I what?"

"Miss your family."

Desperately. "A bit. It got easier," she lied.

"It must have been hard coming back to Japan. Leaving all your friends behind."

She shrugged. "Not really. None of the European schools I went to lived up to my grandfather's expectations." They had never managed to turn her into whatever it was he wanted. "I switched every year or so. I wasn't at the last one long enough to make friends."

Immediately, she could see from the pained look on his face that she'd said too much. Now he was going to think he had to get all touchy-feely and sympathetic over her alleged tragic childhood. Yet another reason it was better to keep folks at a distance - damn her stupid weakness for people that resembled cute animals.

Jumping off the porch, she held her hand out towards him. "Can I have my book back now?" she snarled, firmly putting the wall between them back in place.

"Oh, sure." He stopped in the middle of handing it over to puzzle out the title. "Preed and Preedj-you-deese?" he sounded out in an atrocious accent. His brow wrinkled with the effort of translating the words into Japanese. "Oh! I've heard of this. It's a chick book."

"It is not!" She grabbed it back, unconsciously checking it over for signs of damage. At his wounded expression, her shoulders sagged. "Well, I mean – it _is_ a romance," she conceded, "But it's so much more. It's about class and marriage and social expectation. About self-discovery. About first impressions and about finding out what's really important even if it's not the same as what the world tells you is." His eyes laughed at her and she could feel heat rising from her neckline all the way up to the roots of her hair. It was so much easier being thought a bad girl than a literature _otaku_. "Anyway," she mumbled, "I like it."

Satoshi held up his hands, "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean anything bad by that." He grinned disarmingly. "Takashi-nii likes romances too. ' _Romance of the Three Kingdoms'_ and stuff like that." His eyes grew wide again. "He can read the ' _Tale of Genji'_ in the original!"

She felt a laugh coming on and stifled it. He was impossible to stay mad at, especially when she was forcing her anger in the first place. "That's… a different kind of romance." 'Cause Genji? Was a total man-whore.

"Is it?" He shrugged. "I mostly only read manga. But it's cool you like these things. Didn't realize you were the type."

"Yeah, well I have hidden depths," she snarked.

Abruptly, Natsumi realized the shouting coming from within the dojo had ceased. Her heartrate accelerated, of all the Morinozukas the one she wished to avoid the most was the boy who made her stomach do acrobatics worthy of an Olympic gymnast every time his eyes met hers.

"I'm… I'm leaving first," she mumbled, turning to run off before Satoshi could reply.

~oOoOo~

Hidden depths.

 _Kamisama_ , he hoped that was true – because if she didn't…. Takashi shook his head and headed to shower and change.

He hadn't meant to listen in. Although he'd been aware of her presence from the minute she'd poked her head up over the window, learning to ignore distraction was part of his training. It was only when he stopped his practice that he was unable to avoid overhearing the tail end of their conversation.

Entering the changing room, he shrugged off his _gi_ and started to toss it into the designated laundry bin. Frowning, he examined it closer and sighed. He'd worn it inside out. Mentally he traced back over his practice, using his fingers to count off sets. Ah! He'd done two extra sets of _haya suburi_ and skipped one of the basic _kote_ strikes entirely.

Removing the _hakama_ he carefully folded it so the pleats would be preserved, all the while mentally berating himself for his lack of concentration. It wasn't surprising, any inner turmoil he felt tended to manifest externally in lapses like that. At least it hadn't occurred during a match – the last time he'd let himself get into this state Mitsukuni had given him a lecture. And a minor concussion. Not in that order.

He needed to regain his inner harmony, and soon, before his inattention became a danger to himself and others. But how? Not even his meditation this morning had helped him to bring the war raging within him to a resolution.

On one side were arrayed the forces of family responsibility, faith in a tradition that had worked for a thousand years, his own hopes for the future, and the way something deep inside him tightened whenever he looked into those doe-brown eyes.

On the other side was the not insignificant fact that she just didn't seem to like him. And he wasn't altogether sure he liked her.

She was sullen, uncommunicative (and he recognized the irony of that accusation), and the most guarded person he'd ever met - including both Kyoya _and_ the Hitachiin brothers. At least the twins were _trying_ to allow people in their closed off world and Ootori's façade was a charming one. Nothing at all like his surly, apathetic bride.

He knew that just because she wasn't what he expected, what he'd hoped for, it didn't mean she wasn't someone he could learn to get along with. But how would he know if he couldn't close the distance between them? He didn't question that it was up to him to do so, this whole thing was too new to her. She'd be taking her cue from him and, if he allowed their current relationship to stand, the marriage wouldn't happen.

Because regardless of family tradition, he wouldn't drag an unwilling woman to the altar.

The problem was, he had no idea where to start. He didn't have Mitsukuni's or Tamaki's ability to batter their way through someone's defenses to befriend them. In fact, most of the time, he was in the exact opposite situation. The clients in the Host Club viewed his natural reserve as shyness and were always trying to bring him out of his shell. His teammates in the Kendo and Judo clubs considered him aloof and worked extra hard to elicit a word of praise.

Truth was, he wasn't shy or aloof – he simply didn't believe in saying anything he didn't mean.

Most people talked too much. They buried truth under a flurry of words, using them as both weapon and shield. Constantly telling themselves little lies. ' _I'll do it tomorrow.' 'I didn't mean to.' 'It's not my fault.'_ He would rather people judge him the same way he did them - by what they _did_. Actions were the only real proof of a person's true character. The only way to know their heart.

After a quick shower, he changed into maroon basketball shorts and a white, sleeveless tee with a shoe brand emblazoned across the front. It was too hot even for a _yukata_. Stepping out of the building, his eyes searched the tree line, not stopping until he spotted a blaze of unnatural color high up in the old oak tree. He wasn't quite sure how he had known that's where she'd be, tucked up as high as she could climb with the book she'd defended so passionately.

A love of Jane Austen was a pretty thin thread on which to hang the beliefs and expectations of a lifetime, but right now it was all he had.

The responsible thing, the mature thing, would be to go talk to her. Or at least try to before she found a way to shoot him down. But, despite a year in the Host Club, charming women was simply not in his repertoire. He'd never had a desire to be more than polite to his guests. Anyway, all those romantic words Tamaki spouted were just another type of lie. Harmless illusions that satisfied some need in both the Host King and his guests.

The reasons why his feet turned towards the house instead were something he didn't think he'd be able to uncover even after an hour of meditation.

~oOoOo~

"Oh, Takashi, there you are. Come here for a minute."

Obedient to his mother's command, he stepped inside the large tatami room his mother had commandeered. Seated before a low table, she was surrounded on all sides by foliage laid out on sheets as she constructed _ikebana_ arrangements to compliment both the public and private rooms throughout the house, something she did every week.

Dropping to his knees on the pillow across from her, he waited to hear why he'd been summoned but Kazumi did not appear to be in any hurry to tell him. Quirking her head from side to side, she assessed the arrangement of bamboo stems and leaves set in a rock shaped vase. "Hmmm… hand me those morning glories, please."

"No, not those." She stopped him as he reached toward a mound of bright pink flowers. "The ones with the blue petal and pink funnel." Switching direction, he grasped a vine bunched with five flowers of such a deep indigo they almost glowed and placed them in her outstretched palm. She tucked them into the vase so they clustered around the base of the bamboo as if the delicate blooms were seeking shelter from a storm. "There. I think this would be nice for Natsumi-chan's room." She traced a finger around the edge of the petal. "So colorful. It reminds me of her, don't you think?"

"Hn." Personally, he thought a thistle would be a better representation of her personality.

His mother set the piece aside, reached into the sleeve of her _yukata_ and pulled out an envelope. "This is for you." She set it before him on the table.

Opening it, he found two tickets for one of Tokyo's many aquariums. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile, sometimes fate handed you exactly what you needed. It was such a simple answer to his problem he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it. Had his friends been around, it was the first thing Tamaki would have suggested.

"Being engaged doesn't alleviate you from the obligation to _date,_ " she stated as if he hadn't understood her message. "Ah! Otou-san was the same way – thinking that just because our parents had settled things between them he didn't need to make any effort to court me." Picking up a camellia she began trimming its leaves into a more pleasing shape. "I soon set him straight on that score."

Registering the date on the tickets, his spirit fell. "Tomorrow, I agreed to help Niita-sensei prepare students for the 1st _dan_ examination." Placing the tickets back in the envelope, he slid it back across the table.

"I'm sure I'll be able to arrange a replacement for you." She slid them back with a twinkle in her eye and steel in her voice. Setting aside the flower and pruning shears, she folded her hands atop her lap and leaned forward. Unconsciously, he straightened his ramrod back even further. "Takashi, the seriousness with which you take your duties as next head of the family is admirable, but there are times when your responsibility to your wife has to come first. And right now is one of them.

"It is so much harder to fix a poor foundation than to make sure it's built right in the first place. Living under one roof isn't enough, not in a house like this – you could easily go months without exchanging a word. Setting aside time for just the two of you, time to get to know each other, is critical." Perceptive eyes pinned him in place. "Especially when your own heart is unsettled."

Embarrassment tinged his cheeks and he turned his head to avoid the scrutiny of one of the only two people who could always tell when he was troubled. Picking up the envelope, he gave in to the inevitable. "Thank you. I think Natsumi-chan will enjoy it - she seems fond of the koi pond."

Koi and Jane Austen, a very thin thread indeed.

"Go, then. Have fun." She shooed him away and he stood up to take his leave. "And, Takashi," she stopped him on his way out the door, "Make sure you ask properly. Don't just grunt at her and expect her to know what you mean."

He turned, smiling at the teasing lilt of her voice and gave the bow of a subject before his emperor. "Hai, Okaa-san."

* * *

 **A/N:** A bit longer of a delay than I'd planned - had some writer's block with this chapter until I got a better grasp on what needed to happen. Thanks to all the new favoriters and followers huge thanks to all those who've left a review. Hope y'all stick with me when things start getting rough after the next chapter or two (evil grin).

 **Chapter Title Trope Referenced:** "Hidden Depths" - People are rarely all that they seem at first glance. (ref. TV Tropes)

Some review responses:

 **Storz** – I think (I hope) you'll be surprised with which people draw her out. One of the fun things about using an OC is that you can have the canon characters interact with them differently depending on the setup.

 **Germanwriter,** and **unravelling E's soul** – I think anyone who loves history is a bit of a romantic (the other type) and that _is_ Mori's favorite subject. I will say that Natsumi isn't going to make it easy for him to discover if the girl he thought he was in love with still exists.

 **Wealhtheow1** – I agree that Tasuya's behaving rather normally for a four-year-old in a rough home environment, but Mori doesn't know that. In the manga, he seems to leap into 'protective' mode first and try to be understanding later, like when he found out Reiko was trying to curse Honey.

 **Lillyannp –** re the house: I have obsessive backstory creation disorder. Seriously, I have to work out all the details of apartments, career paths, previous relationships, and so on for almost every location and minor character. I have the weirdest ad feed now…


	4. All Good Girls Want Bad Boys

_" **Take on another rhythm and see your way to victory."**_

 _\- The Book of Five Rings, Miyamoto Musashi_

Natsumi's eyes darted from the crowd of harried mothers shepherding hyperactive preschoolers, past the giggling teenage girls clutching the arms of blushing boys, and up to the story-high banners depicting frolicking sea creatures.

"Holy shit," she exclaimed, eyes widening in alarm, "This is a date!"

Her hands flew to her mouth, but not fast enough to force the words back down her throat. Damn it! Inner voice! She needed to remember to use her inner voice! Now, the moms were tugging their charges away and giving her the 'don't look at the crazy person' side-eye.

Beside her, the person to blame for her alarm, looked up from the papers in his hand long enough to grunt, "Hn."

Her eyes narrowed. Takashi's face was as emotive as granite, his eyes as opaque as the sky before rain, but instinct told her he was laughing on the inside. Way, way, way down deep inside.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave a 'hmpf' of her own. If she was surprised, it was his own fault. " _He really should have asked_ ," she grumped to herself.

"I did," Takashi stated out of nowhere.

Natsumi jumped. What was he, some kind of esper? Then she cringed in realization. Oops, inner voice again. She really needed to stop doing that. Turned out talking to herself was a side effect of spending too much time with only books for company.

She huffed a sigh that blew her bangs off her forehead. She should have stayed quiet, like she had managed to do the entire limo ride here. Should have kept him at arm's length, but it was too late now. She'd had to go and open her mouth. Plus, she couldn't let such a blatant falsehood stand. Not even when it was said by a hot guy.

"Really?" Arching a single eyebrow at him, she scoffed, "When?"

"This morning." She stared fixedly at him until he felt compelled to elaborate, "At breakfast."

Natsumi tilted her head, mentally reviewing this morning's scene. Unlike yesterday, she'd come down to eat on time. With the Morinozukas, there was no skipping out on family time. No sneaking into the kitchen to steal a snack and hide in her room. No way to avoid their overwhelming _nice_ -ness. If she didn't show up, they sent someone to find her. If she was late, they waited.

It was annoying.

And a little scary. After only a day, she'd started looking forward to it.

This morning's breakfast (rice with raw egg, miso soup, grilled mackerel, some fruit, and a truly astonishing array of pickles) hadn't been much different from any other meal - Satoshi gulping down food like he'd been on a starvation diet in between outlining his plans for the day and mentioning someone named 'Yasuchika' every other sentence; the mother carrying on the bulk of the conversation, flitting from topic to topic like a hummingbird darting between flowers; the Morinozuka patriarch quietly sipping his miso, eyes beaming like a man completely satisfied with life; and Takashi, looking at everyone but her, and responding to questions in grunts and one-word sentences.

"You did not," she proclaimed with certainty, "You said all of three words this morning and one of them was 'Itadakimasu,' which doesn't count.'"

"I did," he repeated, "Okaa-san asked what we were doing today. I said…"

"Out," Natsumi finished snarkily, raising a finger to indicate a count of 'one'. "And when I asked 'We are? Where?' you just grunted 'Fish.'" She raised a second finger. Two words, that was it. He'd spoken two words, nothing at all to indicate…. The penny dropped. "Oh."

Raising his arm, Takashi pointed at one of the banners flapping overhead and declared, "Fish."

Her mouth gaped, imitating the creatures in the posters. Seriously? Nobody could possibly be that obtuse.

That was when she caught it. A slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes, the barest hint of a smile. She had been played. How sneaky, she didn't think he was the type.

Pressing her lips together, she fought vainly to keep from smiling. "Do you always ask girls out like you're making a grocery list?"

"Just you."

Ouch. That would teach her to ask what she don't want answered. "Wow, I don't even merit a verb." She'd meant it to come out like a joke. It didn't.

"Just you." He repeated. "I don't date."

His sincerity hit like a blow to the solar plexus, forcing her to look away. She didn't date either. The things she did couldn't exactly be called _dates_ , not even charitably. She knew without asking, Takashi would disapprove. She shouldn't care about that, but she did.

Mistaking her silence for discontent, he asked, voice laced with concern, "Is this no good?"

It would be so much better for her if she could lie. Spending the day with him might just be her breaking point. She was already in too deep, the Morinozukas were relentless. They lured her in with desires she'd put aside long ago, encasing her in webs of 'belonging' like a bunch of insidious, good-natured spiders. It was tempting to find a way to throw the effort he was making back in his face. Firmly. Definitively. So he wouldn't try again.

But she couldn't.

Rule one – don't get attached. Rule two – don't be a bitch. There was a bright line between being a bad girl and being a mean one. She tried not to hurt nice people, not deliberately. It was one of the reasons she stayed away from them.

"No." She shook her head, "I mean, yes," she corrected, realizing she'd fallen into a double-negative. "This is good." His silence invited something more, prompting her to let go a piece of the truth. "I like this aquarium. I've been here before." Anxiety made her nauseous, but she smiled anyway. "The otters are really cute."

"Good." His face smoothed as the unease slid away. "Good," he repeated, punctuating it emphatically with a single, sharp, nod. Making a 'stay here' motion with one hand, he held up the papers in his other. "I'll get the tickets." Avoiding the lines, he headed straight towards a counter marked 'guest services' to exchange the vouchers he was holding for day passes.

As he walked away, Natsumi couldn't take her eyes off him, and not just because it was like watching a Greek statue in motion. Or because his light gray joggers hugged a backside shaped like two perfect cantaloupe. Or that the blue and white color-blocked, sleeveless hoodie he'd donned had her strongly considering developing an arm fetish.

Okay, not _just_ because of that.

Oh, _kamisama,_ she was in trouble.

She could feel the narrative weight of this moment pressing in on her like a descending ceiling covered in sharp, pointy objects. If she were writing this scene, she would describe the protagonist as balancing on the edge of a precipice, one step from hurtling forward into the abyss, knowing that the safest thing would be to take a giant step back.

She'd never been very good with 'safe.'

Reckless. Impulsive. Wild. That was the sort of girl she was. She didn't back down from a fight, and she just couldn't lay off a puzzle. For a girl like her, Takashi was 190 centimeters of catnip and kryptonite all rolled up in one.

After almost twenty schools, she'd gotten good at figuring people out. At summing them up quickly. But Takashi… every time she thought she'd pinned him down he changed. Quiet but not shy, radiating a humble confidence, imbuing every move with graceful strength. A nice guy with a sneaky sense of humor. It was only inevitable that, when he finished his errand, thanked the attendant, and headed back towards where she was standing, her foot moved on its own accord to take a step to meet him.

Geronimo.

~oOoOo~

Under cover of the dim aquarium lighting, Takashi secretly studied his fiancée out of the corner of his eye. It had to be subtle, furrtive - anytime he made his interest obvious, she gulped and whipped her head away to look at the fish.

And talk to them.

"Hi Clive, how've you been?" Natsumi was currently cooing at the yellowtail fusilier planting open-mouthed fish kisses against the reflection of her fingertips in the glass. "How's Marietta? Is she still chasing that no-good Rodrigo?"

He smothered a laugh. He didn't think she knew she was doing it, the way she spoke was too intimate. Too personal. As if they were old friends catching up on gossip.

"Sorry to hear that," Natsumi responded to a statement from Clive only she could hear, "I guess 'good girls like bad boys' is true for fish too." She clicked her tongue. "Silly Marietta, bad boys are bad for a reason."

It was unexpected. And cute. Almost as cute as her.

He hadn't warned her it was a date, so he knew her outfit wasn't chosen with him in mind, but her pastel Care Bear t-shirt, lavender skirt, and knee-high pink-and-blue striped socks suited his tastes exactly. Even her multi-colored hair had been transformed, woven together into twin plaits resembling braided rainbows.

If they knew each other better, if this was a normal date, he'd reach out and tug on one of them. Let her know he liked it.

"He's only going to break her heart," Natsumi consoled Clive with a sigh, "Then I'm sure she'll realize what a great guy you are."

But this wasn't a normal date. Even without prior experience, he knew that much. If anything, it resembled the opening phase of a match – two fighters circling, warily testing each other's defenses, looking for signs of weakness.

The fish she called 'Clive' swam away and Natsumi waved farewell with a chirpy little 'bye bye'. Without acknowledging her escort in any way, she sauntered over to the next exhibit.

Given her attitude towards him so far, he'd expected this. Prepared for it. Taken steps to ensure the bout resolved itself in his favor, starting with his feint at breakfast.

 _Kuzushi._ 'Breaking Balance.' It was one of the first concepts any disciple of _budo_ learned. Part principle, part philosophy, a single word requiring whole books to explain. Disrupt your opponent's rhythm, force them to respond to yours. Move them from their point of strength to a point of weakness.

His harmless ruse had worked better than he'd anticipated. She'd laughed. Teased him. Given him a tiny glimpse of herself. That was why she wouldn't look at him now, why she preferred to converse with fish. He'd startled her into dropping her guard and she had yet to regain her footing.

Not that he was going to let her.

 _Seme._ 'Retain Superiority.' Apply continual psychological pressure on your opponent to destabilize their defenses. Pay attention, develop a bond allowing you to sense their weakness. Anticipate what direction they will move in response to your next action.

She was trying to ignore him, to slip back into a stance which radiated 'do not approach.' He was making it difficult. Without saying a word, he forced her to acknowledge his presence. Every blush when he caught her eye, every tiny jolt when he brushed along the edges of her self-defined personal space, eroded her ability to shut him out. Sooner or later, she would cave and engage him directly. He only awaited the right time.

 _Tame._ 'The Interval Before _.'_ Wait with the focus of a cat watching a mouse, a wolf stalking a rabbit, or a boy pursuing the girl he liked. Maintain vigilance. Be ready to respond to whatever opening your opponent gives. Recognize the moment to strike.

The moment came at the jellyfish tunnel.

It was one of the exhibits this aquarium was famous for - a long Plexiglas tunnel filled with hundreds of moon jellyfish, their gossamer membranes iridescent against the dark water, changing color under the artificial lights. Blue. Purple. Pink. Purple. Then blue again. The popular tunnel was uncharacteristically empty. Back down the hall behind them, Takashi could hear murmuring from the crowd of aquarium visitors mobbing the large tank at the entrance, watching the fish being fed.

Halfway down the corridor, Natsumi stopped, entranced by the ethereal beauty surrounding her. Tilting her head back to marvel at the jellyfish floating by overhead, a hundred years of cynicism slid off her face, revealing once again the girl he'd met in Osaka on a cold, autumn day.

Sometimes in a match, there was a single, perfect moment of clarity. An instant where he saw both the opening and exactly what he needed to do.

"Natsumi-chan," he called softly. Startled, she turned toward him, doe-like eyes still unguarded. Placing a hand against the tunnel wall, he quietly ordered, "Watch."

Keeping his focus on her, he waited. At first, there was nothing. She blinked once. Twice. Slowly the barrier she placed between herself and the world started to rebuild. Before it could, her eyes widened, her mouth opened on a gasp, and he knew his strike was true.

Slowly, wonderingly, she walked forward, stepping past him until she was at the wall, her fingertips brushing gently against the side of the tank. Positioning himself behind her, his arm still extended outward, caging her on one side, he could see what had her enraptured.

From all corners of the tank, jellyfish were converging on one spot centered at the point his hand met the glass. One by one they made the journey, until every last one of them was part of a giant sphere. Their numbers complete, the jellyfish at the edge of the circle fanned out, forming rays like a drawing of the sun.

And then, they started to spin.

"That's incredible!" Natsumi peered back up at him, eyes glowing like a child's at a toy store window, "How are you doing that?"

He gave the only answer he could, "I like animals."

"I like them too," she laughed, delighted, "But they don't do _that_ for me."

"Why?"

Her brow wrinkled, and he considered elaborating, but then she grasped what he'd been asking. "I… don't know. I've never really thought about it." Shifting her gaze back to the invertebrate sun, oscillating blue-purple-pink-purple, she traced the outline of one of the jellies with her finger. "I suppose it's because animals are honest. They like you or they don't like you, they don't pretend. And they can't be mean. Even if the things they do seem cruel, it's just instinct."

Realizing she'd revealed more than she'd wanted to, her jaw clenched. She swallowed hard, closed her eyes, then forced it into a smile. Crossing her arms over her chest, she regarded him with mock sternness. "Okay, tell the truth now. You're some kind of jellyfish- _kami_ , aren't you?"

 _Maai._ 'Interval.' The distance between two people measured in time. Control the space, control the match. Move only as far as needed to break your opponent's stance and strike accurately.

Sometimes, that meant taking a step back.

"Not a _kami."_ Bidding a silent farewell to the jellyfish, he dropped his hand but held out a lure to her, "Not just jellyfish."

"You mean it works with other animals?" He inclined his chin 'yes' and she vibrated excitedly, like Mitsukuni after three whole cakes. Beckoning him to follow, she did a backwards half-skip down the hall. "I want to see what you can make the manatees do."

"I don't make them." He fell in beside her, strolling towards the furthest exhibit on the floor.

"How does it work then?"

"I say hello, they say hello back."

She snorted, unimpressed with his explanation. "Then why didn't anything happen before now?"

He lifted a shoulder and dropped it. "It's… showy."

Stopping, she swung around to give him her full attention. "You… you did that for me, didn't you?"

A single nod was enough to answer.

Shadows of uncertainty flickered in her eyes, greeting the kindness with suspicion. "Why?"

"You talk to fish."

She yelped, then blushed as pink as parts of her hair. Bringing her fingers up to touch her forehead, she shielded her face from sight. "I was vocalizing again, wasn't I? Gods, you probably thought I was insane."

"No." That he thought it adorable would only cause her to retreat again. To spare her embarrassment, he resumed walking.

"I don't even know how to explain it to someone." She fell in beside him, her face still covered. He kept an eye out to be sure she didn't bump into anything. "It's just…. Have you ever read a book or seen a movie that you loved so much you never wanted it to end?"

Not really. The books and movies he preferred were based on real people, real events. He liked them for the insight they gave, not the plots. But he didn't want to discourage her from saying more.

"The problem is, they always do." Her hands dropped back to her sides as she warmed to her topic. "Or the author takes the story somewhere you don't like, and you're stuck with it." That part had her sounding offended. Incensed. "Places like this," She waved a hand to indicate the surrounding tanks, "I'm the one who gets to decide what happens. I mean, not everything, animals do what they want to do, but I can create a story out of that and, each time I come back, I can add to it." She gave a self-deprecating half-smile. "I guess I'm just easily entertained."

With that, they reached the manatees and the end of her revelations.

The manatees snuffled 'hello' kisses against the glass, then they lined up along the bottom of the tank and did clap push-ups with their fins. The next tank over, the squid executed a complicated set of moves that Natsumi declared a 'quadrille.' After that, she dragged him all the way back to the entrance and they revisited each tank. Two hours since they'd arrived, they finally made it up to the second floor, where she made him prove amphibians and reptiles weren't immune to his greeting.

"How does it work on frogs too?" Natsumi's face pressed against the glass. Inside, the three blue dart frogs she called 'Porthos, Athos, and Aramais' were in a mock battle with the red frog (Cardinal Richelieu, of course). "Aquaman's powers are supposed to end at the shore."

"Not Aquaman," he replied.

Did she mutter, 'No, you're a hell of a lot better looking,' under her breath or was that just his pride imagining it?

"Shit!" She exclaimed suddenly, leaping back from the window, and looking at her cell phone. "I lost track of time, we're going to be late."

Grabbing his wrist in her hand, she started running towards the stairs at the other end of the hallway, the ones heading back down to the first floor. "Sorry. Sorry." She dodged them around the other patrons murmuring excuses but not slowing down.

Without warning, halfway to the end, she halted in her tracks. Swinging around, she dropped his arm and marched back to the African River exhibit. Right as they arrived, a boy, about five years old, turned away from watching the chiclids to talk to someone. His brow wrinkled, confused, and then a cloud passed over his face and fear entered his eyes as he realized the person he'd thought was there, wasn't.

"Hey there," Natsumi greeted him before he could start panicking, crouching down to be at eye level, "You look like you misplaced someone."

The boy nodded shakily, "I… I can't find Mama!"

How had he missed seeing a lost child? Mentally tracing back his steps, Takashi froze the point where they'd passed this exhibit. His attention hadn't been on his surroundings, he'd been too distracted by looking the evidence he'd broken through Natsumi's defenses completely. At the point where one delicate hand with rainbow colored nails had been wrapped around his wrist, almost holding his hand.

Huh. That was something he'd have to reflect on later.

Back in the present, the boy was showing all the signs of a pending meltdown. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes which he tried to dash away with his sleeves.

"Oi, no tears now," Natsumi ordered in the cheery voice people used with scared children. Looking up at Takashi, she held out her hand and mouthed 'handkerchief?' Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out and handed it to her. "They aren't going to help you find your mama, now, are they?" she asked, dabbing his face with the cloth.

The boy manfully bit his lip and blinked back the tears.

"And if they don't fix things and don't make you feel better, they're just a waste of salt, neh?" Holding the handkerchief to the child's face, she ordered him to blow. "There, that's better. I'm Natsumi, nice to meet you."

"M-My name's Kosei. Nice to meet you, Onee-chan."

"Kosei-kun, I think we should do what I tell my little brother to do if he gets lost." The boy looked at her expectantly. "Go somewhere really, really high where I'll see him."

The boy looked right, left, and right again around the aquarium. "But... it's all the same level."

Natsumi leaned in conspiratorial and held up her hand to whisper in her ear. "See that Onii-chan there?" She jerked her thumb in Takashi's direction. "I think he looks pretty tall, don't you?"

Catching on, Kosei's eyes flared, and a shy smile peeked out. Holding his fingers up to his mouth, he nodded, giggling.

"Well, then," Natsumi stood up and held out her hand out for the child to grasp, "Let's go find your Mama."

Lifting one eyebrow, she silently challenged Takashi to object. He forgave her that, she didn't know him well yet. Reaching down, he grasped Kosei around the waist and smoothly lifted the boy up and onto his shoulders in a single move.

"We should take him downstairs to the information desk," she instructed, "Kosei-kun, you keep a look out for your Mama on the way, okay?"

"'Kay." Takashi felt the boy's body shake with the effort of nodding and then twist and turn back and forth as he looked over the crowd.

The trio made it almost to the steps when they heard a shout of, "Kosei-chan!" A woman lugging a toddler ran up the steps in their direction.

Takashi had to act quick to catch Kosei as he lunged forward in an attempt to get to her.

"Oh, thank you. Thank you." The woman bobbed up and down, bowing in turn to the teenagers. "I thought he was right behind me. I'm sorry he troubled you."

"It was not trouble." Natsumi waived away the apology. "We both have younger brothers. Kids that age wander off without meaning to." She nudged Takashi with her elbow, she didn't seem to expect him to speak without prompting.

"No trouble," he confirmed, ruffling the boy's hair as he would Satoshi's, "It was on our way."

A few more minutes later, politeness finally allowed the mother and her children to depart. The boy kept turning over his shoulder to give a little wave at Natsumi until they had rounded the corner of the stairwell.

"You were good with him," Takashi remarked once they were out of sight.

She shrugged, giving a half-smile that had a touch of sadness. "He was cute. Reminded me of Tatsu-chan." Lifting her cell phone, she looked at it and gave a deep sigh. "We're too late now, the tickets will be gone." She started down the stairs. "It can't be helped. But I want to see it anyway."

Takashi sauntered along behind. "See what?"

"The otter greeting." Not realizing he was familiar with it, she explained, "They let people shake hands with one of the otters, it's so cute. The otters are really friendly and sweet. But only a dozen people can do it at a time, so they pass out tickets like a raffle. I try every time I come here, but never win." Left unsaid was that this time she'd missed her chance by stopping to help.

Downstairs, the crowd had already gathered. Natsumi went up on her tiptoes, her face rapt as the staff finished announcing the numbers and wheeled in an otter in a plexiglass case. A small hole had been cut in the glass allowing the creature to stick his paw out and shake hands. The first winner, a young woman whose boyfriend was already filming the event with his phone, stepped up and the otter reached out his paw.

Natsumi squealed. There was no other way to describe the noise she made. She sounded suspiciously like the girls in the host club when Mitsukuni was trying very hard to get attention. She had 'kyaa'd'.

Over an otter.

Was it wrong to feel jealous of an aquatic mammal?

That was something he'd have to meditate on it later. For now, he'd been handed another perfect moment, another opportunity to slip past her defenses.

This time, it might even be the winning point.

~oOoOo~

Natsumi watched the little girl whose turn it was, trying hard not to feel envious. She'd learned to bury that emotion a long time ago. Nothing came of it and, eventually, it would eat you alive. Besides, the girl was too adorable, the way she took the otter's hand with the formality owed a prince, you'd have to be a real bitch to be jealous.

Oh! A prince! That would make a good story, a variation on the frog prince with an otter. No, too cliché. It had probably been done before. Maybe she could gender-flip it? But a transformed princess and a boy just didn't have an interesting enough dynamic. Maybe the otter could be just an otter, but still a princess. A dispossessed princess on a quest to win back her throne from an evil uncle. Now that had potential.

At the edges of her vision, she noticed the crowd beginning to disperse, but her mind was already somewhere else. Lost in a narrative involving a betrayal, quarreling siblings who had to work together, sword fights, an undercover ferret, a suitable-for-children romance, and happily ever after.

When someone touched her arm, she shrieked.

Takashi materialized next to her out of nowhere. Now that she'd spent the day with him, she knew he'd done it deliberately. Knew he found her reaction funny. He was a sly one, hiding a playful side beneath all that stoic, Byronic, broodiness.

"Come," he ordered monosyllabically, jerking his head in the direction of the wall. Without waiting to see if she'd follow, he strode towards a door marked 'restricted entry' being guarded by a man in a suit and a uniformed employee.

Quirking an eyebrow at his imperiousness, she was still curious enough to follow him. Puzzle. Lay off. Can't.

"Morinozuka-sama," the suited man bowed greeted him, bowing low, "Welcome back. I apologize for not being aware of your visit."

"I came as a guest, Director, not on behalf of my family's foundation." Takashi returned the bow with equal depth. "I appreciate you accommodating my request on short notice."

"Of course," chimed in the woman, "It is always a pleasure to have you visit. The animals enjoy the time you spend with them so much."

Natsumi tried very hard to keep shock and confusion off her face as her suddenly loquacious 'date' introduced her to the aquarium director and head aquarist.

The Director left, after some very circumspectly couched references to an 'annual donation,' leaving the aquarist to usher the couple inside to a well-lit hallway. A few doors down, she pointed them into a locker room. "You can change here," she offered, "Onishi-san will be with you as soon as he's ready."

Takashi thanked her, and she exited, closing the door behind her. Walking over to a rack of open shelving, he selected a pair of coveralls from a stack and handed him to Natsumi.

"What's going on?" she asked. Because someone had to.

He didn't answer, of course, must have used up all his words for the day. He did give her an indecipherable glance over his shoulder, so that was something.

Opening one of the lockers, he rooted around in it and withdrew a second coverall. Shaking out the garment she held in her hands, Natsumi sat on a bench and started to pull it on over her outfit and tried again, "What are we doing back here?"

Nope. Nada. His silence was punctuated by the sound of him pulling up the zipper on his suit. Then, from a rack next to a door opposite the one they'd come in, he grabbed two pairs of Wellington boots and set the smaller pair next to her.

Natsumi's eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the embroidery over his left pocket. "And why does that pair of coveralls have your name embroidered on it?"

Takashi's half-smile was so deliberately enigmatic she burst out laughing. So, so sly. She bet most people didn't even know that mischievous side of him was there.

The door opened just as she'd finished exchanging her street shoes for the wellies. The rumored 'Onishi-san' poked his head in, setting off another round of greetings that made it apparent Takashi was something more than an average visitor. Afterwards the aquarist, an almost unnaturally enthusiastic young man in his twenties, led them into the next room.

Natsumi's heart stopped.

There were otters.

Two baby otters, one sable and one cream, playfully rolling around in a glass enclosure like fur-covered balls.

So. Freaking. Cute.

"You are just in time for their afternoon feeding," Onishi said brightly, opening the door to the pen. The otters stopped their play and ran over, scampering up over their keeper's arms before settling down so they rested along his forearms, chin-to-palm.

"Kuro, Shiro, guess who's come to visit?" The keeper turned around as he spoke.

The instant the otter pups caught sight of Takashi they leapt, launching themselves like mini rockets straight at his chest. Effortlessly, he, caught them, cradling one in each crooked elbow like babies.

Oh, she was not prepared for that sight. Nobody with functioning ovaries was prepared for the sight of Morinozuka Takashi cuddling baby otter pups. Her heart gave a loud, lone BA-DUMP.

Shit.

She'd gone and broken Rule one.

He'd given her otters. Otters! She'd have to be more than a bitch, she'd have to be downright psychopathic not to become attached after that. Maybe, even a little bit more than attached. The guy. The place. The freaking otters. She might as well face it, she'd been doomed from the start.

Something deep inside her released with a snap, like a spring wound too tight or a damn that had been holding back a deluge. A feeling washed over her, a terrifying relief, that left her giddy in it's wake. And, in an odd way, free.

The pups chirped and twisted in Takashi's arms until they were standing, each with one little paw braced against his shoulder and the other on his cheek. They chattered at him, taking turns to twist his head one way, then the other.

She was running out of synonyms for adorable. "They sound like they're scolding you," she teased.

"They must miss Morinozuka-sama," Onishi said with a cheerful grin, "He wasn't able to make his regular visit last week."

"Does that mean you volunteer here?" And if he did, were there pictures? Oh, please let there be pictures!

"The Morinozuka Foundation is one of our major sponsors." Onishi answered on Takashi's behalf again. "It was thanks to their generous funding that we were able to adopt these two little guys when they were found orphaned two months ago. Morinozuka-sama has a gift for helping wild animals settle in, he's been very helpful with them."

Having allowed their rebuke long enough, Takashi looked sternly at the pups. Chirping petulantly, they settled down, curling into balls against his chest. One by one, he lifted them up to his face as if silently conversing with them. When done, he handed the lighter one, Shiro, to Natsumi.

She had the distinct impression she was a distant second best in the pup's eyes but she didn't care. Because otters!

Onishi brought over two filled baby bottles, handed her one, and showed her how to feed the little ball of fluff. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she draped a fleecy blanket over her lap and nestled Shiro inside. One hand gently keeping him in place, she held the bottle with the other to let him feed. As he greedily gulped it down, she scratched behind his ear with her finger. She might have some cooing noises. She felt no shame in that.

"They eat solid food too," Onishi stated, holding up two cups filled with raw fish, "We use these as treats to train them in their natural play behaviors and the things we need them to do when we perform health checks."

Takashi handed her Kuro, allowing Shiro to get in equal time with his god. Of the two, Kuro was the cuddler. The little otter snuggled right into the crook of her knee and didn't want to move. He wasn't allowed to rest, though, and soon Onishi was taking them through a routine involving high fives, handshakes, ball chasing, and belly rubs. Lots and lots of belly rubs.

At some point during all that, okay, at _many_ points, she looked up to catch Takashi's gaze on her. She couldn't help but smile back.

Rule one was totally overrated.

. . . . .

An hour later, Natsumi's otter high had yet to fade. Even after revisiting the second floor to catch what they'd missed, she was still flying on a rush of 'cute.' She was fully aware that, at times, she'd been skipping.

"The seal show is in fifteen minutes." They had worked their way back down to the first floor, a large, open-air space built on the roof of the skyscraper. Most of the more popular (i.e. cuter) animals were here along with stages for shows. "Want to go?"

Takashi shook his head. Emphatically. "Not allowed."

That shocked her into stumbling, almost falling into him. Fortunately (?), she caught herself before she banged right up against his ridiculously broad and muscular chest. "Not allowed? What did you do?"

He turned pink. Noticeably pink. Yeah, 'adorable' definitely needed more synonyms. Her heart started doing that 'doki-doki' thing she'd always thought only existed in the imaginations of mangaka. "The penguins got too excited, once," he mumbled.

She spluttered, "Oh, _please_ tell me there's a video."

He turned pinker and changed the subject, "Food?"

She let him. "Sure. I'm kind of hungry." She'd ask Onishi, they'd exchanged Line addresses. With that reaction, there was bound to be a video.

The aquarium café was crowded with visitors grabbing sodas and custom fruit smoothies to cool down in the hot August afternoon. Just as they reached the area, a couple vacated an outside table. Takashi motioned for her to grab a seat while he went and fetched lunch.

The table had a great view of a giant 'ring' of water. Seals not in the show zipped by, careening faster than Ferraris on a race track. Natsumi watched them zoom along, smiling at their antics. Today had been amazing. Even without the otters, it would have been the most fun she'd had in… maybe forever. And it was all due to one person.

She'd broken Rule one.

But, maybe it had outlived its usefulness. She'd made it such a long time ago, after she'd wised up and realized all getting attached to people and places got her were swollen eyes and a scratchy throat. After the fourth set of 'best friends forever' eventually stopped emailing and moved on with their lives.

Though, she _had_ broken it once before. Bile rose up in her throat at the memory. But that was different. Takashi was nothing at all like…

No. Not going there.

It wasn't the same as back then. Takashi was nice. The Morinozukas were nice. Maybe, this time, she wouldn't have to leave.

"Natsumi-chan?"

Startled out of her reverie, she looked in the direction of the voice and was blinded by dazzling light. The dark figure standing in front of her blocked out the sun, but the rays streaming around it hurt her eyes, forcing her to squint. Shielding her eyes against the glare, she blinked until the figure resolved into the shape of a boy about her age.

His features were indistinct, impossible to make out against back light, but she probably knew him. The more-fashionable-than-thou hair style, the 'oops, I rolled out of bed and into these designer clothes' look, the not-out-until-next-month Pineapple watch all placed him smack dab in the Venn diagram intersection of the overprivileged, the unsupervised, and the dissolute that she associated with.

What the hell was someone like that doing _here_. One of the reasons she liked aquariums (and zoos, museums, even coffee shops) was their commonness. Their unapologetic lack of trendiness. The people she ran with, they had their uses, but she didn't want or need to spend all her time with them.

"Heya," she replied, unconsciously slipping into the aloof, jaded tones required of members in that particular clique, "Didn't expect to see anyone here. Slumming?"

He dutifully provided a snort dripping in world-weary cynicism. "Nah. Got kicked out of school for the second time. My parents are punishing me by making me escort my demon-spawn little sisters wherever they want to go."

Natsumi made a non-descript noise that managed to indicate both 'that sucks' and 'I find this conversation boring.'

He was undeterred by her lack of interest. "You going to Nadia-chan's party tonight?"

The pampered, hedonistic children of the 1% of the 1% were a cosmopolitan bunch. Euro-trash, chaebol, freeters, fuerdai, trust-fund babies – that was the crowd she was on the fringes of. She'd been kicked out of the same schools as them. It formed a bond of sorts, granting her entry to their world when she needed it.

The daughter of Russian diplomats to Japan, Nadia had been in the same school as Natsumi four times. That almost made her a friend, if she'd allow herself any. But, "I thought her parents sent her to school in Moscow so she could connect with her roots?"

"She's back for the summer. Good behavior or something." More likely Nadia's father was too connected in his home country or paid too much money for the school to kick her out.

The sun shifted, and the boy's features snapped into clarity. Natsumi reeled back, smothering a gasp. This guy she remembered.

It was important, that she could remember them. That she could name them. Important that the guys she'd hooked up with could be accounted for. It was the bright line between being a bad girl and a rotten woman.

"So? You going?" Jiro. His name was Jiro. And for some reason he was still hung up on that damn party. "I thought maybe we could meet up there."

"No." No to the party. No to him. She didn't do nice guys, popular guys, guys with girlfriends or repeats. She used them and they used her, that was how it worked. Everyone got what they needed, nobody got attached, nobody got hurt.

Something wrapped around her chest, squeezing it like a python until she could barely breathe. Her focus shifted, her eyes drawn to the open doors of the café, fixating on the person within as if he were a lifeline. "I can't get away," she choked out.

Jiro followed her gaze. "Dating a salaryman now?" The words 'how much is he paying you' hung silently in the air.

She shrugged, slamming the door shut on that line of inquiry. Takashi, even just information about him, didn't belong anywhere near that world. Her world.

"Well, if you change your mind…" Jiro hovered for a minute, eventually giving up. "See 'ya around, Natsumi-chan."

She couldn't be bothered with saying good-bye.

Jiro rejoined his group, twin girls barely in elementary school and a trio of boys she vaguely recognized from the same parties. Friends he'd strong-armed into joining him. One of the boys asked Jiro a question, he looked back at her, then said something in a low voice to the others that had them snickering.

Her reputation was preceding her.

Cold creeped along her skin, flowing up and over her forearms to her shoulders until she was shivering uncontrollably despite the sweltering sun. Locking her wrists in a death grip, she forced herself to inhale and exhale, to not give in to the temptation to wrap her arms around herself. Another shadow blocked the sun, deepening the cold, and she tensed.

False alarm. It was only Takashi. Taking the seat opposite her, he set a tray laden with food down in between them. How cute! He'd gotten her a bento with rice in the shape of a sea otter holding a piece of onigiri. And a little octopus cake pop for dessert. That was so… so...

Oh, god, what was she doing?

Because she realized, now, just what type of a guy Takashi was. And he wasn't _nice._

Gods, that was a weak word if ever there was one. 'Nice' was opening a door for someone and paying your bills on time. 'Nice' was saying please and thank you when someone passed the salt. 'Nice' was not going out of your way to hurt someone. Or to help them either.

 _He_ was something else. Something deeper and greater. Something that could be both wonderous and terrible at the same time.

Morinozuka Takashi was a Good Man.

Dread and shame rolled around in her stomach like a pair of harbor seals. If he really knew who she was, all the things she'd done, he wouldn't want her. Not the way she feared she was starting to want him.

Good girls wanted bad boys. But as for good men? The gender-flipped version just didn't hold true, in life or in fiction. Marius was meant for Cosette, not for Eponine. Takashi was meant for some pure-hearted girl who deserved him, not for her.

She wasn't in love, just barely beginning to be attached, so why did that realization hurt so much? Why did simply acknowledging the truth make her feel like she was being ripped in two?

Digging her nails into her palms, she stared blankly at food she had no appetite for. Food that wouldn't make it past the lump in her throat. She had to get out of here. Had to scream. Had to hit. Had to run. Had to do _something_ , anything, that would make this feeling go away.

Her phone vibrated with an incoming text and she glanced at it. Nadia sending a belated invite, Jiro must have messaged her. The fist clenching her heart eased just a little, and she texted back two words.

'I'm in.'

* * *

 **A/N:** Wow, is anybody still following this? If so, I apologize profusely. I didn't intentionally put this story on hiatus, I just hit a point in life where I could only focus on one story and chose the one that was further along.

Also, to be completely straight up, Natsumi is a much different OC from the types I've written before and Mori is… well, _Mori._ It took me four passes to write a chapter where they actually talked to each other. To anyone interested ins seeing this continue, I do solemnly swear I will keep writing this story to the end. But no guarantees on how fast the chapters come out.

Thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, and/or reviewed so far. Thank you for your patience. Apologies to anyone who practices kendo or judo if I played a bit loose with the meanings of the terms referenced.

 **Chapter Title Trope Referenced:** "All Good Girls Want Bad Boys." Does it really need a definition? Catherine and Heathcliff. Jane and Mr. Rochester. Scarlett and Rhett. Without this trope, the romance genre as we know it would cease to exist.

But don't do it in real life. Just don't. Bad boys are bad for a reason. Heed the wisdom of Ms. Austen and aim for Darcy, not Wickham.


	5. Princess Carry

" **Are not there little chapters in everybody's life, that seem to be nothing, and yet affect all the rest of the history?"**

 _-Vanity Fair, William Makepeace Thackeray_

Natsumi leaned her shoulders against the wall, tilted her head back, and let the music wash over her. The bass pounded at a level that moved beyond hearing, reverberating through her body until she couldn't tell where it left off and her heartbeat began. Colored beams, thin and bright as lasers, pierced the dark, painting multi-colored patterns in the thick haze of smoke blanketing Nadia's basement. Guilt over his fourth wife, only ten years older than his daughter, had resulted in Nadia's father turning the space into something that rivaled Tokyo's trendiest night clubs.

Heat and sweat roiled off the mass of dancers, thickening the air to the consistency of stew. Completing the sensory immersion, Natsumi knocked back the last of her third (or maybe fourth, she'd lost track) drink, savoring the sweet-sour taste of cranberry juice concealing the kick of vodka.

This.

This right here was why she did it, why she took pains to stay within this clique. With them, she was never more than two degrees of separation away from an invite to a house party or to the contact details for someone who could sneak her into a club. From access to what she needed.

Overwhelming her senses, burning them out to the point of numbness, was the only way she'd found to tame it.

Even now, she could still feel it crawling under her skin like electricity - the Dark Energy that had been part of her for as long as she could remember. The urge to hurtle down a hill at 200 kilometers-per-hour with her hands off the wheel and her feet off the brake. The desire to swan dive off a cliff into the ocean on a moonless night. Nothing got rid of it, nothing could. But with enough sensation, and enough alcohol, she could smother it.

For a while.

A few weeks.

If she was lucky.

When had it started, anyway? Back in fourth grade? Staring out the airplane window on her way to a new school, a new country. The knife stab of realization that the people she'd spent six months befriending would forget her and move on with their lives, just like the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.

No, it was before then. Maybe when she was six? Being woken up the morning after Papa's funeral by a maid and bundled into a car before dawn. Moving from one stranger's care to another's until the journey ended at a drafty castle filled with girls in grey and women clothed head-to-toe in black. Her questions on what she'd done wrong to be sent away going unanswered.

Or it could have been further back still. Finding it's genesis in the pitying eyes and pained smiles of grown-ups patting her head and telling her to be a good girl. Admonishing her to look after her brother and not trouble her parents. As hard as she tried, it was never enough to make Mama happy. Or to make Papa better.

Whatever the origin, she knew the exact moment that it had reached critical mass, becoming uncontrollable. She only ever _wished_ that she could forget.

~oOoOo~

 _ **December. First Year Middle School.**_

 _Nope. Trying to sleep on her left side was just as uncomfortable as the right. All her efforts did was make the bed shake precariously and let out an ominous sounding rattle. These things were safe, right? Well, if they weren't, at least she was in the right place if it collapsed underneath her._

 _Why did they hospitalize people for exhaustion anyway? It was stupid. A hospital was one of the least restful places she'd ever been in, almost as bad as airplanes._

 _The bed was a potential deathtrap, the mattress sagged in weird places and the IV pinched her arm when she moved. The air was too cold but the blankets too warm and a chemical scent pervaded the air, irritating her nostrils but not quite enough for her to relieve it with a sneeze._ _During the day, the steady flow of visitors walking past her door disturbed her rest, but at night the quiet magnified every sound – the hum of machinery, the soft beeps of monitors and murmurs of nurses, the quiet squeak-squeak-squeak of rubber soled shoes as the staff made their rounds._

 _And if, after all that, she was still able to sleep, then the nurse waking her up every four hours to check her vitals would soon fix that._

 _They'd told her the Librarian had found her collapsed on the floor between the stacks in the English Literature section. The doctors said she'd been studying too hard, that she'd driven herself to exhaustion._ _Which only showed how much they knew._

 _Too much studying. As if! Anxiety over grades wasn't the reason she didn't sleep at night. Excessive homework wasn't what drove her to spend mealtimes in the library. Even here, in the safety of a room fifteen minutes away from school, she could still hear the vicious taunts ringing in her ears, see the leering smiles every time she closed her eyes._

 _And there, in the center of it all, Kazuhiko and Miyoko. Brother and sister. Her roommate and the boy she thought had loved her._

 _The irony of it was, she really had worked hard this year. Tried her best. After so long away, Grandfather had finally listened to her pleas and brought her back to Japan, to a school only an hour away from Tokyo. A short train ride away from home._ _She'd had no intention of letting this opportunity pass. If she could succeed, if she could be the granddaughter and daughter that Grandfather and Mama wanted, then maybe her exile would end._

 _She just needed to be perfect._

 _Studying. Activities – not Kendo Club, it wasn't ladylike, so she joined the Tea Ceremony Club and took extra classes in ballet and_ koto _instead_ _. In her spare time, she volunteered for the beautification committee._ _And, for a while, it all went well. She got third in the first term exams, was appointed secretary of the Tea Ceremony Club, played_ koto _at a local festival, and was given a solo in the upcoming Christmas ballet. And the school gardens looked fantastic._

 _Then, she ruined it._

 _It was her mistake. All that school involvement hadn't made her more social, she kept waiting for Grandfather to declare this school unsatisfactory the way he had the last ten. She'd never made more than a superficial effort to get along with her classmates. She wasn't up on the gossip. Hadn't learned the unwritten rules. Didn't know the pecking order._

 _She_ had _known Kazuhiko was popular, but not what that meant. It was her first time at a school with boys. Nobody had told her how the third-year girls guarded his attention as jealously as a dragon did his horde, treating any drop he spent on someone else as their loss._ _She_ hadn't _known he had a girlfriend. Or that she was the princess of the school._

 _All she had known was that he was handsome. And funny. And he flirted with her. She was right about that, wasn't she? Despite what anyone said. When Miyoko would go to see her boyfriend, his roommate, he'd sneak into her room to hang out. All those times his shoulder rubbed against hers while they watched a movie, or when he'd wrapped his arms around her to show her how to work the video game controller, she hadn't mistaken what that meant. Had sh_ _e?_

 _And then,_ that _night, when things had somehow gone further, when the intimacies crossed from implied to actual, he had said it was okay because they liked each other._

 _No. That was what she'd gotten wrong. He'd said it was okay, because she liked him._

 _But greeting him the next morning in front of his classroom as if he were her boyfriend? That had been her real mistake._

 _Out in the hallway, a persistent squeak-squeak-squeak grew louder and, when the door slid open, Natsumi greeted it with relief. Pushing herself up to sitting, she murmured a greeting to the nurse._

" _I didn't mean to wake you, Natsumi-chan. I'll just be a minute." The nurse, a pleasant woman with a motherly figure and laugh lines around her eyes, checked the chart for the last shift's notes._

" _No trouble," she replied truthfully, "I couldn't sleep."_

" _Oh, that's not good. I'll ask the doctor what we can do about that." Frowning, the nurse double-checked the clipboard. "You hardly touched your evening snack, maybe your body is hungry." Her eyes lit on a bowl by the bed. "Looks like your homeroom teacher brought some lovely Mikan for you, how about you have a couple after I check your blood pressure."_

 _Natsumi nodded halfheartedly. The staff were pleasant, but unrelenting bullies about the things they thought she should do. Eating an orange or two was better than being nagged about her lack of appetite._

" _Such a nice man, handsome too." The nurse kept up a steady stream of chatter as she poked, prodded, and squeezed. "I bet he sets all of you young girls giggling. Good of him to visit, such fine manners."_

 _Her teacher had spent half of the time trying to circumspectly ask if she was planning to hold the school responsible for her collapse. The other half were oblique threats about what might happen if she did._ _He also said her classmates missed her and were looking forward to her return, which only proved that adults were clueless about what really went on with the kids in their care._

" _Tomorrow's Saturday," the woman babbled, "I'm sure your friends will be by to visit then. It is a bit far to travel on a school day."_

 _Unlikely._

 _But, "Did Mama…. I mean, did my mother call? Is she coming?"_

 _The nurse gave the bright, brittle smile of someone delivering bad news but hoping the recipient would take it well. "I understand she's very busy." She plucked some oranges from the bowl and dumped them in Natsumi's lap in one brisk motion. "But I'm sure she'd want you to eat and get your strength up so you can visit her."_

 _A ball of ice formed in Natsumi's gut, sending a wave of numbness through her body. All the work she'd done, and it was all for nothing. She couldn't be perfect, there was just something fundamentally wrong with her. Even when given every opportunity, she messed it all up._

 _Seeing the nurse's troubled expression, Natsumi nodded and began peeling the orange, lulling the older woman into thinking it would be eaten so she would leave. The minute the door slid closed, she drew her knees up to her chest, sending the fruit tumbling to the floor._ _Wrapping her arms around her legs, she buried her head against them and waited. And waited. And waited. The tears she expected just wouldn't fall._

~oOoOo~

Natsumi scowled at her empty drink. Fifth. It was her fifth. That one made her maudlin. Now it was go on to number six or be morose for the rest of the night.

"Hey. Natsumi-chan, right?" Someone shouted in her ear over the music.

Tilting her head up, she found herself looking into a round face that really couldn't pull off the spiky blonde undercut and massive amounts of guyliner it wore. "Yuuta," he shouted, pointing at himself, "I saw you today at the aquarium? With my friend Jiro?"

He had been reading too much manga. He was doing that thing where he leaned one arm against the wall and angled his body over her, trying to make her heart race.

He could save his tricks; her heart didn't race. Except earlier today. With Takashi. And the otters.

Shit, she really needed that sixth drink soon.

"Yeah, I remember," she replied.

"So…. Want to go somewhere quiet and talk?"

Talk. Was that what the boys were calling it now? Gods, he moved fast, just what had Jiro told him? True, she picked guys out of convenience, but she still made them work a little harder for it than this.

But the men… they were for when she was in a different kind of mood. For when the darkness roiling inside her grew and grew until it overloaded. Short-circuited. Leaving nothing – no darkness, no light, just The Void.

Some people talked about feeling alone in a crowd. The Void wasn't like that. It was standing in a crowd and wondering if the people surrounding her were just a figment of her imagination, or if she was just a figment of theirs. It was knowing that nobody would miss you if you just vanished, nobody would even know you were gone. Sex was a cheap price to pay to know that her existence mattered to at least one other person, even if only for an hour or two.

But tonight wasn't one of those nights. "Not right now," she put him off. Some guys didn't handle rejection well. "I like this D.J." And even if she was in the mood, it wouldn't be this guy. There was something that just seemed wrong about him. He was too short. Too blonde. Too androgynous. Too talkative.

Damn, she had it bad.

"Sorry," she brushed past her wannabe hookup, "I need to greet the birthday girl." And get another drink. The way the Dark Energy was gripping her tonight, she knew it wouldn't be her last.

~oOoOo~

Takashi noiselessly padded into the entertainment room, not from ninja-like skill but from the fact that the pile was deep enough to muffle an elephant herd let alone his stocking-clad feet. The Suohs followed Western conventions, he hadn't needed to slip off his shoes in the entryway, but the habit was too ingrained. He could no more enter a home in his outdoor shoes than he could get in a bath without showering first.

He didn't call out a greeting as he entered, his friends would be more surprised if he had than if he hadn't, so his arrival went mostly unnoticed. Mostly, because Kyoya was eerily observant to the point of possibly having psychic abilities and _nothing_ got past Mitsukuni. The rest, though, were otherwise occupied.

"NOT Infinity War," the twin holding the remote exclaimed. From the aggressive tone, probably Hikaru. Since he was pressing the buttons which scrolled through Tamaki's digital video library as if they had personally wronged him, Takashi was mostly confident in that assumption.

"Yeah, boss," added the one he'd think of as 'Kaoru' until proven otherwise, "You made us watch it like five times when it was in the theaters."

After he'd gotten home from the aquarium, Takashi had received an invite-slash-order on his phone from Kyoya to meet at the second Suoh mansion. Tamaki had decided that the club needed its own summer bonding event, because two weeks in Karuizawa wasn't enough, and impulsively decided on a 'commoner sleep-over' at his house. The rest of the club hadn't even had a chance to go back to their homes yet.

There was also a message from Mitsukuni stating that _'Ranka-chan got delayed coming home and Tama-chan doesn't want Haru-chan to be lonely.'_

"But it was so good!" protested the Host Club King, leaping up onto the sectional, one foot planted on the arm-rest to support a series of gestures he probably thought conveyed 'elocuting dramatically and with conviction' but was more arm-waving and flailing, "The camaraderie, the heroic last stand..."

"The over-reliance on discredited Malthusian economic theory as character motivation," snarked Kyoya, not looking up from his cell phone.

The Shadow King had claimed the only side chair in the room, the better to not to spend the evening being jostled as Tamaki and the twins competed to see who could make Haruhi snap first. Like little boys pulling pigtails, to them any attention was good attention.

Not that they consciously recognized that as what they were doing.

The girl who had unwittingly thrown two-thirds of the club into emotional disarray had found the safest spot in the room to be, perched on the far end of the curved sectional right next to Mitsukuni. Not even these three would interrupt their _sempai_ when he was busy shoveling a three-tier chocolate and strawberry cake into his mouth.

"AN-Y-WAY!" The blonde shot a quelling look at the brunette, who ignored it, "That movie encapsulates the epic strug… Oh! _Kimi no Suizo wo Tabetai_!" Tamaki catapulted off the sofa. "We should watch that! So sweet... So tragic… I cried."

The twins made gagging noises, which resulted in a skirmish for control of the remote. Internally, Takashi shook his head. The three of them had no order at all. Not a speck of discipline between them.

It was perfect.

A tension deep within him relaxed. He'd joined this club for Mitsukuni's sake but quickly came to enjoy it for his own. Here, he wasn't Team Captain or Heir. Here, his only responsibilities were to indulge Mitsukuni and, occasionally, rescue Haruhi from being accidentally smothered.

But only when she asked. He suspected she liked the chaos as much as he did. There was a form of Zen in embracing it.

"Geez, your taste sucks, Boss." Hikaru scrolled rapidly through what was on offer, the two-on-one nature of the battle had resulted in a victory for the twins who retained control of the remote. "Romance. Romance. Drama. Romance. Disney. Romance…. Whoa! Fifty Shades!?"

"What!" shrieked Tamaki, making a dive for the remote that resulted in a game of keep-away, "How did that get there!?"

Kaoru effortlessly caught the toss from his brother and flung the device back with equal ease, "You really are the S & M King, Boss."

"It wasn't me!" The boy shouted, "It must have been one of the maids!"

That was probably true. Tamaki had a true, pure-hearted, innocent quality that was apparent to anyone who knew him. It was what was drew people too him despite the narcissism. It was what kept the idea of a high school Host Club from becoming sordid.

He was a good kid.

They were all good kids, even the twins. Even Kyoya. It scared Takashi, sometimes, to think how those three might have turned out had Tamaki not barged into their lives. For some people, that was all it took. They just needed one person at the right time to change the path they were on.

"Tama-chan, what's Fifty Shades about?" Cake finished, Mitsukuni had decided to get in on the fun. With Usa-chan clutched to his breast, he was the very picture of innocence. "Would I like it?"

The three boys froze, the remote in mid-flight. It clattered to the ground as they abandoned the game to surround the child-like host.

"Oh, this will be good," muttered Kyoya under his breath barely loud enough for Takashi to hear. Haruhi caught it too, judging by her snicker.

"N-o-o-o Honey-sempai," stuttered Tamaki, "I don't think it's the right movie for you. We'll… we'll find something else."

"Yeah… how about," Kaoru scrambled for the remote and randomly hit buttons until the offending movie was off the screen, "The Rurouni Kenshin trilogy?"

Takashi perked up, that one he never tired of.

"What about that one, Kao-chan?" Mitsukuni pointed at the title next to it. "The one with the boy and the balloon. I like balloons. Oh, look, it has a clown!"

"Um… you mean It? I don't know, I think that one's a bit… scary?"

Mitsukuni's eyes widened. "Scary?" He shook his head vigorously, the way he knew made his curls fly about and look cute. "I don't like scary things." He leaned his head against Haruhi's shoulder and Takashi resigned himself to watching something animated. "You don't want to watch a scary movie, do you Haru-chan?"

"Well, I don't really mind, Honey- _sempai_ , but if you don't like it," Haruhi replied, patting her senior's head, oblivious to the looks of envy coming his direction from the Tamaki and the twins, "Then maybe we can watch a Disney or Studio Ghibli film or something?"

Now that she had expressed an opinion, the trio leapt forward to suggest things that might meet with their princess's approval.

Mitsukuni leaned back with a satisfied beam that brightened the room. Now that his goal had been achieved, he turned his attention elsewhere. "Hi Takashi! Where's Natsumi-chan?"

Takashi loved his cousin as you could only love family. Valued the younger man as his closest friend. As a loyal vassal, he would follow the Haninozuka heir into the pits of hell itself.

But, sometimes, Mistukuni was a bit of a punk.

As one, the trio turned to face the oldest host. "Who's Natsumi-chan?" asked Tamaki.

"Takashi's fiancée," replied the little troublemaker with the innocence of a cat, "Didn't she want to come?"

Beat.

"Mori- _sempai_ has a fiancée!?" shouted four voices at once.

"Yoshida Natsumi, age 16." Kyoya put down his phone long enough to show off his superior knowledge. "Daughter of Police Officer Yoshida Ryuu, commoner, and Maeda Shizuko, only daughter of the Chairman of Maeda Shipping. According to my file, they've been engaged since infancy."

Another beat.

Mitsukuni had mysteriously found another cake somewhere, red velvet this time, which he was happily scarfing down. He also enjoyed the chaos, but not in a Zen way.

Haruhi's brow wrinkled. "You keep a file on Mori-sempai's fiancée?"

"Of course not, Haruhi," Kyoya scoffed, "What kind of person do you think I am?"

Everyone, even Takashi, gaped at that.

Kyoya pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his finger. "I'm not some amateur! I have an entire dossier. I can provide you a copy if you'd like, Mori-sempai."

That was the closest Kyoya would get to expressing concern for someone else. He wasn't very honest about his feelings. The youngest Ootori had a protective streak worthy of a Morinozuka, even if it came out in slightly stalkerish tendencies.

Takashi declined the offer with a quick shake of his head. Reading a background check on Natsumi didn't seem right. Tempting, but not right.

"I'm surprised you didn't know, Tamaki," Kyoya continued, seeing an opportunity to get a dig in at his friend, "Morinozuka-sama sent in her application for Ouran yesterday, she'll be transferring when school resumes in September. I thought you'd vowed to keep track of all incoming female students since the whole _misunderstanding_ with Haruhi."

"Well… if it's only been a day…" The Host King flushed, and the twins snickered, even though they had also thought Haruhi a boy at first. Whipping to face the eldest host, a wounded look in his eye, the Host King tried to direct the attention of the group elsewhere. "Mori- _sempai_ , even though this is a club activity, you know you could have invited her, right?" He placed a hand on his breast. "The Host Club exists with one goal in mind, the happ…"

"At a friend's." He cut Tamaki off mid-stream. Chaos was fun, but not when he was the center of it.

That killed the mood, though. Tamaki looked crestfallen, Haruhi worried, and the twins kept whispering to each other behind their hands. He shot a slightly desperate look at the pixyish provocateur who'd started this mess.

"Haru-chan, I want popcorn." Mitsukuni jumped down from the sofa, dusting cake crumbs off his lap, skipped over to the youngest host, and looped his arms about her waist. "Can you show me how to microwave it?"

That kicked off the 'mission-to-experience-commoner-popcorn' followed by the 'strategy-to-rid-the-house-of-the-burnt-popcorn-smell' and then the 'outing-to-the-convenience-store-for-cheap-snacks-and-more-popcorn.' Eventually, they settled down to watch _Ponyo._

Mitsukuni had a way of getting what he wanted.

After the film, the little manipulator stretched, gave a big yawn, and curled up to sleep with his head pillowed on Takashi's lap and his body stretched along the sofa. Haruhi got up from where she'd been sandwiched between the twins, tucked Usa-chan under her tiny _sempai's_ arm and covered him with a fuzzy blanket. Given the choice between sitting back next to the twins at one end of the sofa and Tamaki at the other, she chose the wisest course and plopped down on Takashi's other side.

For the next movie, Tamaki's tastes prevailed and they watched a romance between a sullen high school student and his cheerful, popular, and doomed to die classmate. For all their protests, Takashi couldn't help but notice the suspicious moisture in the twins' eyes.

Midway through, Haruhi asked quietly, "Mori-sempai, are you okay?" He looked at her, puzzled. "With an arranged marriage, I mean. It doesn't bother you."

It was sweet of her to worry. There was a good reason over half the club had feelings for her. "I'm good," he reassured her.

The little furrow in her forehead didn't ease. "Your fiancée, what's she like?"

"She's…"

She was pricklier than a porcupine, treated acts of kindness with suspicion… and would stop in the middle of whatever she was doing to help a lost child.

She talked to fish, liked animals for their honesty... and believed that tears were just a waste of salt.

She confused him and intrigued him, repelled him and attracted him, and sent his mind and heart in a thousand directions at once.

"…different."

Haruhi peered up at him, skeptical, but she didn't push. By silent, mutual agreement, they turned back to the TV.

The third film, the twins picked Rurouni Kenshin. By then Tamaki and Haruhi, both early risers, had crashed out on the sofa feet-to-feet. Kyoya, stopping all pretense of paying attention to the big screen, had pulled out his laptop and was typing away furiously and muttering imprecations about the Nasdaq.

Normally, Takashi was in bed by this time too, but training ran too deep. Even in friendly territory, it went against his instincts to not keep watch while his _daimyo_ slept. It wasn't a problem, he could go days without sleep. Although, after three or four, his family told him things got spooky but he never remembered. His enjoyment of the movie was complicated by the twins' incessant whispering to each other. Occasionally, he made out phrases: 'really think it's her?...', 'should we say…', 'but what if…', and so on.

The quiet argument went on for a while, culminating in silence for five minutes, and then a tentative whisper, "Mori- _sempai?_ "

Turning, he was surprised to see matching expressions of anxiety had replaced the twins' default setting of indifference. That alone was enough for a tiny sliver of alarm to form right under his sternum.

"Mori- _sempai_ ," Kaoru repeated. Whatever they wanted to say, it couldn't be good if the job had been handed to the gentler twin. "Natsumi-chan… um… is she short?" He held his hand at about Mitsukuni's height. "With really wild colored hair?"

The tiny sliver was now a jagged beam. Takashi gave a sharp nod.

"Shit." Hikaru scowled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look… it's not our business… but…"

"…but you're our _sempai_ and…"

"…and just please don't say anything to the boss or Haruhi, 'kay?"

Takashi raised his eyebrows, urging them to spit it out.

Kaoru gave Hikaru one of those looks that made him seem like the elder of the two. "We don't talk about it, but before we joined the Host Club we'd sometimes hang out with some kids who were kind of wild."

"Not often, just when we were really bored," interjected Hikaru, "But, anyway, there was a girl named Yoshida Natsumi who'd be at the same parties sometimes. We remember her because…"

"…of. Her. Hair." Kaoru spoke firmly, as if cutting off something else Hikaru might have said. "We don't know if it's her or if she might have changed, but if not…"

"...Look, what we are trying to say, is that if it's the same girl and the same friends then…" Hikaru trailed off. The twins sat there, embarrassment etched all over their faces, and Takashi couldn't help but think about paths not taken. And that they really were good kids.

"Nadia," he supplied, "Her friend's name is Nadia."

Hikaru nodded. "There was a Nadia-chan who's father was with an embassy or something."

"Nadia Kuznetsov," Kyoya spoke up, of course he'd been paying attention the whole time, "Daughter of the Russian Political Attaché and grand-daughter of an oligarch on her maternal side."

The twins turned to each other and had a silent exchange, broken again by Kaoru, "Mori- _sempai,_ Nadia-chan's bad news. If it's her party, well…"

"…sometimes things get out of hand. Especially for the girls."

Takashi was on his feet before he realized he'd started to stand.

Mitsukuni, his pillow having walked away, sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Want my help, Takashi?"

Nothing got past Mitsukuni. _Nothing._

"No. I'll get her." From the way the twins hedged, he was afraid what he might find out. She had secrets, it didn't take a dossier for him to know that, and some part of him didn't want them revealed to anyone else. Not even his cousin.

Kyoya hastily scrawled an address on a sheet torn from his ever-present note book and held it out. Grumbling his thanks, Takashi snatched the piece of paper, clutching it in his hand like a talisman.

~oOoOo~

Natsumi stumbled and fell face first onto something soft.

Ah, it was nice here. The sensory overload of the main area had gone from numbing to nausea-inducing and she'd sought out some place quieter. This was the first room she'd found that was empty. No bodies writhing in the corners. Or in the middle.

Turning, she flopped over to her back. The world spun in circles and she screwed her eyes shut until it stabilized. She felt… floaty. Was that a word? It should be a word. It felt too good not to be.

After… she tried to count on her fingers but couldn't make them touch her thumb in the right order. Anyway, she didn't remember how many drinks she'd had, she'd lost count sometime after seven, but it had been the magic number. The Dark Energy inside her had curled up and gone to sleep like a satiated tiger.

It was probably time to leave, she didn't need to be her anymore. She should go home. The tiger stirred and she hurried to correct herself. No. The Morinozukas. She should go back to the Morinozukas.

If she could remember how to call a taxi.

It was kinda difficult to hold on to a train off thou… Oh look, pretty lights!

The sofa? (Bed? No, it felt more like an over-sized padded bench) that she was on was one of three surrounding a low coffee table with one of those thingies that beamed colored lights onto the ceiling. Above her, patterns of red and green and blue streaked and wove and danced in time to the beat pounding outside the door.

It was pretty. Like the jellyfish. Her eyes drifted close and she fell into the memory of that moment. Takashi's arm bracketing her on one side, his body a solid wall of heat at her back. His grumbly voice tickling her ear and sending shivers racing down her spine. And, before her eyes… sheer magic.

Her eyes flew open and she tensed, but the tiger didn't stir. It had been lulled to blissful slumber. Natsumi yawned. Maybe she'd join it.

An instant later, she was back in the aquarium, only this time the memory had morphed into a daydream. In her imagination, the corridor was empty. It was just her, Takashi, and the jellyfish. The glass tunnel walls vanished, and the warm water engulfed them, the luminescent creatures coiling about them in an ethereal ballet.

This wasn't real, so there was nothing to stop her from acting on impulse. Turning in his arms, she smoothed her hands over his chest, sliding them up to anchor around the base of his neck.

And then, he kissed her. Firm lips pressed against hers, moving over them eagerly. Insistently. Sloppily?

That didn't seem right.

With effort, she opened her eyes. Maybe. It could be she was still sleeping. A dream within a dream. Something blocked her vision, all she could see was a forehead and a splash of platinum hair.

Not a dream, a nightmare.

Was she awake or trapped in an alcohol-infused delirium? Either way, she went limp, her foggy mind unable to move her body. She somehow summoned enough coordination to move her hands to the assailant's shoulders, some vague notion of pushing him away and pretending to vomit swirling in her head, when the problem disappeared.

Literally. Disappeared. One second there, the next gone.

And then she realized it really was only a dream after all because the face she most wanted to see hovered into view. Smiling, she held out both arms to him and Takashi picked her up, gentle as lover, cuddling her against him.

A princess carry.

This was the best dream ever. Burying her face, she nuzzled into his chest. Even the smell was right, pulled straight from her memory, all wild and untamed. Wood and loam. Salt and musk. The scent of where forest meets sea.

The sounds of music faded, the air changing from a fetid smog to muggy with a hint of breeze, and she felt herself being lowered into a seat and something strapping her in place. Body heat was replaced by cold metal against her side. Oblivion pulled at her, and she felt more than saw someone slide into the seat next to her.

"Was he your boyfriend?" they asked.

"No." Guys didn't want her as a _girlfriend_. "I don't date," she mumbled, nestling into the car door and tumbling into deeper sleep.

~oOoOo~

Natsumi awoke slowly and with an excess of caution. Everything hurt. Her head. Her bones. Her toenails. She ached all the way down to the tips of her hair. Moving sounded like a horrible idea, but her bladder was becoming very insistent that staying put wasn't an option.

Groaning like an extra in a Romero film, she leveraged her torso up to sitting and opened one eye, then promptly shut it as light stabbed her retina. Just how much had she had to drink last night?

It was all a bit of a blur. Arriving. Drink. Two girls from one of her old schools dumping a half year of gossip on her. Drink. Dancing. Drink. A couple guys hitting on her, one after the other. Drink. Getting roped into a group where a couple of returnees tried to teach everyone how to play 'quarters.' Drink. Drink. Drink.

At least, somehow, she'd made it back to the Morinozuka's safe and sound.

Her stomach gurgled alarmingly. Well, one out of two wasn't bad.

Dragging her eyes open, her gaze fell on the bedside table. Someone had set a bottle of water and aspirin on it. The speed with which she grabbed for it, washing down three pills in flagrant defiance of recommended dosages, sent a dagger through her temple.

Limping to the bathroom, she set about upgrading her status from 'living dead' to 'half alive'. Part way through scrubbing the peach fuzz off her teeth, her brain caught up with the morning.

All the blood drained out of her face.

Water. Aspirin. Takashi.

It had to have been him. It was… sweet. Something he would do. But, then... that meant all the rest of those half-remembered events had to have actually happened. Gods, what had he seen? What did he think of her?

A small voice answered, _'Nothing that isn't true.'_

Hurrying through the rest of her ablutions, she knew she needed to find him. Talk to him. Explain…

What? Explain what, exactly? What would it do besides prolong the inevitable? Maybe this time she was innocent. Well, mostly. But sooner or later the sleeping tiger would rouse, the Dark Energy would consume her again, and then who knew what would happen? The closer she got to him, the more it would hurt when he rejected her.

But… she should thank him, at least. For the aspirin.

Unable to think beyond that idea, she headed to find him. He wasn't in his room, which left the garden or the dojos. Passing by the Morinozuka patriarch's office on the way to the back yard, her quest was arrested by the sound of masculine voices coming from inside the room.

She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the Shoji walls were thin. She couldn't help but overhear Takashi pleading, "Father, please allow me to break the engagement."

With just eight words, The Void suddenly rose up out of the depths to engulf her, snapping its jaws around her with a decisive ' _CHOMP._ ' Oblivious to everything else, Natsumi ran.

* * *

 **A/N** : In re-reading what I had, I realized I had only hinted at Natsumi's backstory and my original story outline would have taken too long for important details to come out. In retrospect, I'm wondering if I should have put the flashback in this chapter as prologue. That's the downside of writing FF and chapter by chapter, no editor to help craft the narrative.

For those of you uncertain about the OC, I hope you'll give it a chance. This is my first time writing this type of character arc, but I plan for this story to have a strong coming-of-age element so don't expect her to stay the way she is. But she'll probably do some stupid stuff before then.

 **Chapter Title Trope Reference:** Princess Carry (aka Bridal Carry) – see, Tamaki carrying Haruhi out of the ocean in Chapter/Episode 8. Usually denotes or foreshadows a romantic relationship between the characters or a major difference in their physical strength or both. (ref. TV Tropes).

Thanks to all the new favoriters and followers, and thanks especially to those who've left reviews.

 **Chalice 13** – yep, totally forgot about Scarlett and Ashley. To be honest,  Gone with the Wind isn't one of my faves (unlike Miss Austen). I was going for stories most people would recognize because many of the examples I thought of off the top of my head were somewhat obscure. I'm kicking myself for forgetting Sandy and Danny Zuko, though. Also, there's all the fanfiction written about 'that' night in Okinawa which is a bit of an in-universe example.


	6. Sins of the Father

" **Love is never a matter of chance but of will."**

 _-Chance, Osamu Dazai_

"Father, please allow me to break the engagement." The words burst out of Takashi, cutting through the air like a _kiai_ , leaving silence in their wake. A silence that stretched on and on, growing thinner with each second. Fragile. Gradually filling with the faint sounds of the busy city out beyond the estate's walls, the shouts and laughter of students heading into a class, the soft scuff of a servant's shoe in the hallway.

Hands pressed against the _tatami_ , forehead touching the floor, Takashi waited for… anything. For any word, yes or no, that would resolve the turmoil which had been roiling in his breast since the minute he'd opened the door to his father's anteroom to find a girl with pink hair, suspicious eyes, and a permanent scowl.

The seconds ticked past. Then a minute. And then a minute more. Finally came a sigh and gently spoken words, "Takashi, raise your head. There's no need for that between the two of us."

Shifting from _dogeza_ to _seiza_ , Takashi met eyes as dark as his own and caught a brief flash of something in them he didn't recognize. Not quite disappointment, not quite pain, it was something in between. Something he couldn't interpret.

Akira's fingers twitched on the low, _keyaki_ wood table that served as his desk. In a man who hadn't so thoroughly disciplined himself to not make wasted movements, they would be drumming. "If I asked you why," he asked in a slow drawl that answered the question even as it was spoken, "Would you tell me?"

The gaze turned sharp, assessing, and Takashi resisted the urge to make wasted movements of his own. But he wouldn't squirm. Or scowl. He would simply tell his father about last night and the Morinozuka patriarch would have to agree that the engagement should be broken.

How could the next family head marry someone who behaved so recklessly, without any regard for her safety or reputation? How could a man marry a woman who cared so little for him that she could ki…

No. That part wasn't important.

Opening his mouth to speak, the memory of how she'd felt in his arms as he'd carried her out of that place flooded over him. Soft and delicate. Easily breakable. Completely unguarded. And in her haze, when she'd turned to nuzzle her face against his chest, it had been his name that she'd sighed.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't expose her failings, even to his father. He'd made a promise to protect her. That it had been to himself and he'd been eight at the time, didn't make it any less binding.

A man was nothing without his honor.

Shielding his thoughts behind impassivity, he simply stated, "It's my decision."

"I see." Akira probably did. But he also wouldn't press. "I suppose it can't be helped." His fingers twitched again, and he let out a small sigh. "If that's the case, then I can't reject your request."

The answer didn't ease the tightness coiling through Takashi's gut and up around the base of his spine, weighing on his stomach like those mudballs Mitsukuni had made him eat when they were eight.

Maybe it was because he had known what would come next.

"And I can't grant it either," Akira completed, "It isn't my decision. Natsumi-chan's father and I only agreed on the match, it is up to the two of you to decide whether to accept it. Our family tradition has never involved forcing people together who don't want to be." Akira raised one eyebrow in silent challenge. "But, you've known this all your life. So, I can't help but wonder - why do you feel the need to ask for my permission?"

That… was a very good question. Takashi had tried to resolve this on his own to no avail. All last night, his heart and mind had warred against each other. No matter which path he resolved to take, the battle raged on without ceasing until sleep had finally dragged him under. This morning, he'd woken feeling as spent and worn out as a muddy, churned up battlefield and was not one bit closer to an answer.

He was a Morinozuka. There could only be one reason for his confusion. "Duty."

"Ah," Akira murmured, "But which one, I wonder? The two of us, we have so many things, so many people we have responsibility toward. It's inevitable for our duties to come in conflict with what we want, or with what's convenient, or even with each other."

Dark eyes gleamed sympathetically, with a hint of that 'other' emotion still lurking in their depths. "And that makes it even more critical that I don't interfere." A smile softened the sting in the rebuke. "You're almost an adult, Takashi, and my successor. A Head can't make the important decisions for the Family if he doesn't first learn how to make them for himself."

Takashi's shoulders drooped imperceptibly, and he bowed his head. In his heart, he had known this would be the outcome, but he supposed there was still enough of the child in him to have hoped his father would have all the answers.

"But, I think you still have doubts. If you were fully confident that breaking the engagement was the best path, you wouldn't have brought this matter to me." Akira sighed heavily again, wiping his hand from forehead down to chin, curling it around to stroke his goatee. "As a father, I want to make things easier on you. As a man, I'm afraid I can't."

Surprised, Takashi raised his head and almost gasped. The soft, genial lines of his father's face were twisted, the emotion that had been haunting Akira's eyes now palpable enough to name - regret.

No, not regret. Regret was too soft a word for something this raw. _This_ was the one thing Takashi never thought he would ever see on that face. It was shame.

"Before you make a decision, there are things you should know about your engagement," Akira said, choking out the words as if they were razors scraping his throat, "Things I've never told you. I suppose I hoped I would never have to, but no man can hide from his mistakes. Sooner or later, every one you make will land right on your doorstep." He laughed humorlessly. "Quite literally in this case.

"I'm not blind, and I like to think I understand my children, I know Natsumi-chan isn't what you expected or how you remembered. And for that, you can blame me."

Takashi jolted, every cell in his body recoiling from the idea. His father was everything he aspired to be – kind, strong, honorable, wise - the perfect family Head. It felt as if a rock he'd always stood on had shifted beneath his feet.

"I can see you don't believe me, but it's true." Akira's face grew grim. "Although I am far from the only adult to fail that child. But to understand, you need the whole story. You need to know about Yoshida Ryuu and who he was to me."

Takashi's eyes darted to one of the pictures his father hung behind his desk - fourteen men, some standing, some sitting _seiza_ ; all dressed in dark blue _hakama_ and breastplates; all deliberately not smiling, as if they could break their future opponents' stance through a photograph alone. In the center of the first standing row, his and Natsumi's fathers stood side by side.

He'd heard the story a thousand times, how even though they were the two youngest, Akira and Ryuu had both made it to the final bout in the World Kendo Championship. How, even though Yoshida had triumphed in their only college championship match, that day it was Morinozuka who brought home the gold.

Takashi frowned. Know that he thought on it, that was really all he knew about Natsumi's father - he'd been a great _kendoka_ and he'd died too young. The stories Akira had told the night Natsumi arrived were the first time he'd shared more than that. Returning his gaze to his father's face, Takashi stated, "He was your _kohai_. Your friend."

"Yes. He was all that and more." Akira affirmed, "At first, I didn't speak of him because it was too painful. Later, it was because I was ashamed. I made him a promise and I failed to keep it…" He shook his head vigorously, cutting off whatever he might have said next. "Ah, but that part comes later. Let me start properly. From the beginning.

"Ryuu-kun's parents died when he was young and his relatives took turns taking him in. For most of his childhood, he was passed from family to family like an unwanted heirloom. Perhaps that is why he took to _kendo_ so strongly – it gave him consistency. A place to belong. Even passing from dojo to dojo, he could take comfort in the familiar. The same techniques, the same _katas_ , the same discipline.

"Eventually, he ended up at Maasaki-ojisama's dojo in Osaka. At ten, Ryuu-kun showed more promise than students twice his age. Oji-sama recognized his ability straight away and did not want to see it wasted by inconsistent training. He was 97 at the time, so he couldn't take charge of a child himself, but he prevailed on my father to accept Ryuu-kun as a live-in student."

Takashi was sure that his grandfather had no choice. Morinozuka Maasaki, Takashi's great-great-granduncle, was a family legend. Part of a breed of _kendoka_ that no longer existed. He was one of the only 10th _dans_ in modern _kendo -_ a degree only awarded during the earliest days of the Japanese Kendo Federation. All to men who had already been in their 70's.

"Otou-san didn't have much choice." Akira unknowingly confirmed Takashi's speculation. "If Oji-sama said a boy was worth training, nobody in the family would be foolish enough to disagree."

Akira laughed and shook his head ruefully. "I'll never forget that first time we met. The day he arrived, I raced home from school to be there for his first practice. Walking into the dojo I was… severely disappointed. From all the fuss, I'd been expecting the reincarnation of Musashi Miyamoto, not a scrawny kid in a mended _hakama_ and second-hand _bogu_. And his hair – brown as mud and sticking straight out like a scarecrow's. He barely looked like he could lift a _shinai_ , let alone wield one. I remember thinking that Ojii-sama must be going senile."

He snorted. "The first point Ryuu-kun scored against me, I thought it was my arrogance giving him an opening. He was three years younger, and a good forty centimeters shorter – I was sure I had simply failed to give it my all. The second point, I dismissed as luck. The third? That is when I realized my mistake.

"With all the things I noticed about him, what I should have paid attention to were his eyes - from the second he donned his helmet, they burned with a purity of focus I've never seen before or since. Once a match started, nothing existed for him outside that single moment. He had the most perfect grasp of _maai_ of anyone I've ever fought against."

Akira lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. "We were so close in age and skill, it was inevitable that we be rivals. It was our choice to be friends." His smile broadened. "Although, maybe that was inevitable too. Ryuu-kun was impossible not to like. Quiet, but with a natural friendliness and way of putting people at ease only those who sincerely care about others have. He approached every challenge with humility and cheerful determination, caring less about success or failure than about how he could learn from it.

"I wish you could have known him better, Takashi. I think you would have liked him. I know he would have approved of you."

Embarrassed at the praise, Takashi ducked his head. The man his father described sounded admirable, the kind of _kendoka_ hew would be proud to fight against. There was a reason _kendo_ was considered a 'way' and not a sport – it was meant to develop character as well as skill. To turn out people like Yoshida Ryuu. Like his father.

So what had gone so terribly wrong with Natsumi? How had a man like that managed to raise a daughter so different?

"Being so young, Okaa-san wouldn't hear of him staying in a dorm meant for adults." Too lost in the past to notice the direction of his son's thoughts, Akira continued his story uninterrupted. "She gave him one of the upstairs guest rooms and had him take meals with us. Personally, I think she just liked having a younger child around to fuss over – the rest of us thought we were too old for babying. My sisters were thrilled as well, they claimed that Yorihisa and I were much too serious and they had always wanted a 'cute' little brother to spoil.

"Within a year, all of us had started to think of him as a member of our family; Otou-san wanted to make it official. When Ryuu-kun was sixteen, my father confided in me that he'd reached out to Ryuu-kun's relatives for permission to adopt him but was rejected. I was the only one he told, father hadn't wanted the rest of us to hold resentment towards people he felt were only trying to do what they thought Ryuu-kun's parents would want. He had planned to bring up the issue directly once Ryuu-kun became an adult but…" he trailed off.

"The accident," Takashi finished. He knew exactly what had interrupted his grandfather's plans. Barely a year after Akira's college graduation, both the Morinozuka and Hanionzuka heads were killed in a head-on collision. An unexpected event that left both families reeling and Takashi and Mitsukuni's fathers scrambling to fill the void years before they had expected to.

Akira nodded. "Yes. That accident changed all sorts of plans for many people. But, even though Otou-san wasn't able to make it official, I consider Ryuu-kun my brother. He is family."

And that meant Natsumi was too. Placing his hands on the mat, Takashi gave the bow of an heir towards the head of family. "I understand, father."

"No, you don't." Akira beckoned Takashi to raise his head. "Not entirely. I've only told you the good parts so far, but you need to know it all. The next part of the story… that takes place when Ryuu-kun and I were adults.

"From middle school, Ryuu-kun had planned on a career in the police force. Of course, he wanted to help people, but his desire was mostly because it was one of the only careers available where he could still devote much of his time to kendo."

Takashi wasn't surprised at the ambition. For a skilled _kendoka_ , the police force was an obvious choice. Many of those he fought against in the high school national championships had similar plans. Japanese policemen were required to hold _dan_ rank in, and continue to train in, either judo, aikido, or kendo.

The regional and imperial police forces took particular pride in the strength of their _kendoka_ and competed against each other to field the best teams. Policeman overwhelming dominated the ranks at national and international championships and were among the youngest to reach the highest rank, 8th _dan._ A skilled recruit might be assigned to a special squad where they would be expected to train for four to eight hours a day. And get paid for it. For anyone who didn't have a dojo in their backyard, it was a dream job.

"Ryuu-kun had several offers straight out of high school." Akira dismissed those with a wave of a hand. "But he eventually wanted to gain an administrative rank and knew that would need a university degree. His academic performance was good enough for anywhere, but I was selfish. He'd been too young to fight with me on the high school team, college was our only chance, and I encouraged him to attend Ouran."

Akira's brow wrinkled. "I suppose, in a way, that makes everything that happened next my fault as well – because it was at Ouran that he met Shizuko-chan."

From the way his father's mien darkened, Takashi knew they'd finally come to the part of the tale his father had hoped to never tell.

"Ryuu-kun was a fourth year and had already determined on the Osaka police academy - the _sensei_ at their _tokuren_ at the time was the best in the country. Shizuko-chan was younger, a first year in the art and history faculty. It was only by chance they crossed paths and were introduced by a friend of a friend of a friend's younger sibling. For both of them, it was love at first sight.

"But, from the start, Shizuko-chan's father didn't approve of the relationship." Akira's lip curled in derision. "He was, he _is,_ a bitter old man who begrudged his only child for being born a girl. Most families in that situation would simply adopt in a suitable successor as a husband, but for Maeda-san retaining his family legacy was less important than reclaiming the honor he felt someone of his lineage deserved."

Not even a man as naturally warm-hearted as Akira could fail to express disdain for that mindset, going so far as to click his tongue. "The Maedas were once second only to the Tokugawas. Maeda Tatsuo, though, is from a cadet branch that had descended to the lowest level of the Samurai class during the Edo era. Too low to receive a title during the Meiji Restoration - a slight _that_ man could never forgive. He was determined to rectify it. If he couldn't have a son to carry on his family name, then he would have a grandson who was heir to a noble house. He approached my father about a match, but I was already engaged."

Takashi wouldn't say he heard a fervently muttered 'thank god' at the end of that statement, but he couldn't say he hadn't.

The Morinozukas had always been samurai, never lords, but, ironically, they did count as nobility. Unlike many of the warrior caste, they had remained loyal to the Emperor during the Satsuma Rebellion (well, loyal to the Haninozukas who had been loyal to the Emperor) and had been rewarded with the lowest level rank in Japan's new peerage.

Not that any of that mattered any more, the last world war had abolished all such things. Prestige was judged by a different scale now – just look at the Ootoris. They had been merchants during Edo, and peasants before that, but Kyoya's family had more power and influence than the Morinozukas in today's world. But there were always people in every country that clung to a mythical past as if it had been a golden period. Clearly Natsumi's grandfather was one of them.

"If Ryuu-kun had one failing," Akira sighed, "It was that he thought too well of people. Shizuko-chan kept begging him to elope, but he refused. He believed Maeda-san was simply a father looking out for his daughter. He was confident that he would prove his worth in time."

Akira leveled a gaze at his son and spoke his next words with import. "When her father finally located a match and made plans for her marriage after graduation, Shizuko-chan grew desperate and took matters into her own hands the only way she thought she could."

Takashi's mind raced towards the inevitable conclusion and he breathed it out, "She became pregnant with Natsumi-chan."

Akira confirmed it with a nod. "Maybe she thought her father would relent, although I find it hard to believe she was really that naïve. Maeda-san was furious, of course, he demanded she abort the child and marry the man he'd chosen."

Takashi clenched his jaw tight, his hand forming a fist against his thigh. He knew things like that happened, but it went against everything he had been taught was right. That a man could seek to kill his own granddaughter, his own family member, out of pride… It was unconscionable.

With this revelation, a new feeling was added to the tangled ball of confusion deep inside him – sympathy. To be so hated before she was even born could not have been an easy burden to bear.

Anger flashed in Akira's eyes, his jaw as ridged and unforgiving as his son's. "Ryuu-kun's honor wouldn't allow him to marry against her father's wishes, but under the circumstances he had no choice. They registered their marriage that day. Shizuko-chan left school and moved to Osaka to be with her husband. Of course, her father didn't easily accept defeat."

"Disownment?" Takashi asked.

"He threatened to, not that stopping there would have satisfied him. He had power and influence and could have made things very difficult for them. Not enough to get Ryuu-kun fired, Osaka wasn't about to get rid of the reigning national kendo champion, but enough to hamper his career. So, when I discovered Shizuko-chan would give birth to a girl…" Akira trailed off.

Takashi filled in the rest. "Our engagement."

"Don't misunderstand, that was _not_ why I did it." Catching his son's eyes, Akira held them fast. "That I would consider any daughter of Ryuu-kun's as a fiancée for you or Satoshi was a given, Maeda-san's obstinacy only forced things to occur sooner than they would have naturally.

"An official engagement with the Morinozuka heir, an assurance that his great-grandson would be the head of a noble family, was enough to somewhat allay his wrath. He didn't suddenly become a doting grandfather, but he didn't follow through with the disownment and he left the couple in peace."

Under those circumstances, Takashi couldn't bring himself to begrudge his father's actions. It was Akira's duty to do whatever was in his power to help his brother if he could. And neither man could have known how differently Ryuu's daughter would be from the father.

"I still stand by my decision," Akira said as if reading his son's thoughts, "I've always had your best interests at heart. I visited Ryuu-kun's family often and Natsumi-chan was such a cute child. Bright, imaginative, caring – I was sure that she would be a good match for you." He shook his head sorrowfully. "Such a cute child," he repeated, "Maybe she would still be that way if I hadn't broken my word."

Takashi stilled, that one sentence fracturing everything he thought he knew about his father into a million pieces. Leaving him even more unsettled than he'd been when he came in.

Akira stared out the window of his study, too consumed by regret to see the garden or the buildings beyond. To notice how the ground had quaked beneath his son's feet. "That day is Osaka, I swore to Ryuu-kun that I would look after his family. To my shame, it was a promise I failed to keep."

Turning back to his son, the corner of his mouth lifted. A mocking half-smile filled with self-loathing. "It's no excuse, but there was something about Shizuko-chan I never warmed up to. She was… weak. I couldn't help despising her for using underhanded tactics to get her way instead of standing up to her father. For leaning on Ryuu-kun's strength instead of finding her own. At the funeral, she turned down my offer of support, preferring to return to her father's house. I didn't press the matter.

"In my reluctance to deal with her, I allowed myself to ignore things. I told myself that Natsumi-chan being sent to boarding school out of the country was for the best, at least better than growing up breathing in her grandfather's hatred. I did intervene, once, just before she started middle school. I ran into Maeda-san at a fundraiser and suggested it would be good for her to return to Japan. I implied that it was necessary for my son's wife to receive an education in the traditions of her own country and make the right social connections.

"I thought he would have brought her back to Tokyo and enrolled her in Ouran, or at least at St. Lobelia's, but instead she was sent to some boarding school in Kanagawa. Again, I let things slide. I always thought there would be enough time to deal with the situation, to rectify things later, and so I kept putting it off."

Akira scowled. "Eventually, my conscience could no longer be ignored. A couple years ago, to satisfy it, I hired an investigator to look into Natsumi-chan's circumstances. _That_ was when I realized just how much Maeda-san hated the grand-daughter who had cost him his ambitions, and how deeply I had betrayed my friend's trust.

"The reports from the first boarding school were encouraging." The scowl softened to a fond smile. "They described her as an active, intelligent girl who was popular with her classmates. She made friends quickly, despite the language barrier, and did exceptionally well in social studies." He chuckled, his eyes sparkling for the first time since his story began, "But she talked too much with her friends during math and science. And she was a troublemaker – always reading a novel during study time and sneaking up to the roof on clear nights to view the stars.

"But, she wasn't very happy there. The headmistress wrote Maeda-san a series of notes, each one more pointed than the last, suggesting that Natsumi-chan's adjustment would be easier were she to receive some contact from her family."

Takashi's brow furrowed. " _Some_ contact?" He asked, instantly picking up the implications of that word.

" _Some_ contact," Akira confirmed grimly, "Any contact. It wasn't enough for Maeda-san to send her away," he spat out, "He forbade her mother and brother to interact with her as well. She was as cut off from her family as if she were disowned. And he was prideful – he didn't like anyone calling out his behavior. After the third note, Maeda pulled her from that school and sent her to one in England."

The little tendril of sympathy Takashi had felt earlier grew bigger. From the minute he'd been born, he'd been enmeshed in a web of Family. He was never apart from someone he was related to - his parents and grandparents, Satoshi, Mitsukuni and Yasuchika, aunts, uncles, cousins… too many to count. He could step foot in 27 countries around the globe, in every major city from London to Los Angeles, from Sao Paulo to Singapore, and find someone who he not only shared a name with, but who would feed him dinner, provide a bed for the night, and give him whatever else he needed.

For Natsumi to not even have the smallest shadow of that… he couldn't even imagine.

"Children are resilient." The phrase sent a shiver of fear running down Takashi's spine; there were worse revelations to come. "Even that level of neglect can be overcome if they can find other ways to belong." Akira clicked his tongue again, an impoliteness underscoring how much contempt he had for the Maedas, "But American and European schools aren't like ours, not even those for wealthy families. They don't overlook the things we consider 'family matters' and, sooner or later, every one that he sent her to would start sending suggestions. Then requests. Then admonishments.

"The minute Maeda-san felt a school was questioning his authority, criticizing the way he ran his family, he transferred Natsumi-chan to another school. At each one, the progress reports became less and less reassuring until, by the last one, she was described as 'A quiet child, diligent in her studies and not disliked, but has yet to make any friends.'

"Despite that, the sweet child I had known was still inside her and once she returned to Japan, things improved. Perhaps it was the change in environment, or the fact that the school never questioned the lack of contact so her situation was more stable, but for a time she flourished. The teachers the investigator interviewed at her school in Kanagawa described her as cheerful and energetic, a good student, generally well liked..." Akira trailed off into silence.

Takashi shook his head, disbelieving. He couldn't reconcile those descriptions with the girl who snarled and scowled, who drank to excess and kissed men she didn't love, who went out of her way to hold herself apart from everyone who tried to get close… and who made stories about fish, befriended lost little boys, and loved books with happy endings.

"What happened?" he blurted out, strangely desperate to understand.

"Truthfully? I don't know." Akira sighed, a heavy sorrow deepened the shadows around his eyes. "As best as I can determine, she must have just… worn herself out. A week before winter break in her first year, she was hospitalized for exhaustion. It was one of the Ootori hospitals so I was able to pull some strings to get her file. They only recorded one visitor – her homeroom teacher.

"After that, she… changed. As soon as she was discharged, she walked away. Checked herself into a hotel and stayed there until the school was forced to expel her. If Maeda-san hadn't cancelled her credit card, she might have never have attended the next one he put her in. From there her behavior became increasingly erratic until… well, until she became as you see her now."

Akira closed his eyes, visibly wrestling to bring his emotions under control. Takashi let the normal peacefulness of his father's study settle over them, giving his father the space he needed to center himself. And the space he himself needed to process what his father had disclosed.

Regaining his calm, Akira's features shifted yet again. Becoming, in an undefined yet unmistakable way, those of the Morinozuka patriarch. Takashi straightened, falling once again into his role as son and heir.

"I know I am biased," Akira declared, "I look at Natsumi-chan and all I can see is the daughter of my brother in all but blood. A family member I didn't protect out of my own selfishness. Someone I have an obligation to help. But if that were all I saw, then I would not have allowed the engagement to stand.

"People don't change, Takashi, not in their essence. At least not without a great deal of time and effort. Or adversity. The face Natsumi-chan wears now is still new to her, it hasn't had time to set. All those things that child was when I knew her, that her teachers described her as being, are still there - just waiting for a chance to come back if she is given time and a place to belong. I can give her both. Know that, whatever you decide, she will have a home here.

"The only thing I ask of you, is that whether as her fiancée or as her friend…" Without warning, Akira pushed his body back from the table, placed his hands on the floor, and prostrated himself over them. "Please, help me to help her. Don't let my promise to my brother be in vain."

Now, finally, Takashi understood exactly why his father had warned him that the full story would only make the decision before him more difficult. There was no easy way out of this relationship, no way to walk away. No matter which way he chose, he was bound to her by more layers of duty and obligation than he could calculate. There was no way to escape it, he could only decide how he would live with it. Returning his father's plea with his own _dogeza_ , Takashi answered the only way he could, _"Hai!"_

~oOoOo~

One leg extended, one folded back like a crane, Mitsukuni sliced through the air. His body a deadly knife headed straight for his opponent. Suddenly, at the last second, he was forced to contract his stomach muscles, turning the flying kick into a side roll that brushed against the tip of Takashi's ear and landed Mitsukuni in a crouch.

"Stop!" he barked, fist punching into the ground to channel his irritation. That last strike had come too close. "My point, Takashi. I almost took your head off."

Arms ridged at his side, Takashi bowed low, acknowledging his error, then fluidly slid into a ready stance. Mitsukuni's eyes narrowed, his cousin's back foot was one quarter centimeter out of alignment. One strike and the larger man's stance would be broken.

Unforgiveable.

The self-acknowledged 'cutest' host liked to think of himself as a happy person. In truth, he generally was. It was both his nature and something he worked hard at, taking care to nurture those parts of himself whenever he could. As a result, very little made him truly angry. So little, in fact, that the full list could be counted on one hand:

One - Hurting his family

Two - Disrespecting cake

Three - Bullying someone who can't fight back

Four - Entering a fight unprepared

The last wasn't something he'd accept from a novice, let alone one of the only people he could spar with at full strength. In a battle between two deadly, evenly matched opponents like them, even a momentary lapse of concentration could be dangerous. This level of distraction? Possibly fatal.

A man with three third-degree black belts really should know better.

In anyone else, Mitsukuni would suspect it was one of the normal dozen or so reasons that led to distraction – lack of sleep, physical discomfort, an argument, a girl – but Takashi was impervious to such trivial worries.

He frowned. Well, maybe not the girl. Not when the one his cousin had been dreaming of and idolizing for ten years suddenly showed up. A girl who, judging by the hints the twins and Kyoya had dropped last night, wasn't nearly as much a personification of ideal Japanese womanhood as Takashi expected her to be.

Well, it was Takashi's own fault. He was a romantic – anyone who took duty to the ridiculous lengths the Morinozuka heir did had to be. Mitsukuni _still_ got scolded for the time Takashi had spent three days on a mountain. No woman could have lived up to the version Takashi had created in his head, let alone one as seemingly troubled as Yoshida Natsumi.

Yes, he'd read Kyoya's file. He wouldn't apologize for it – Haninozukas had no less honor than their vassals-turned-family but the difference between a leader and a warrior was knowing which rules needed to be broken to protect those who belonged to you.

And he was curious. He wanted to learn all he could about his new cousin. Takashi wasn't the only one he was supposed to protect.

Clearly, the gap was too much for Takashi to deal with. It was only to be expected, after all he was a simple man.

People misunderstood that word. Most looked down on it, dismissing it as meaning ignorant, insufficient, weak. Most people were idiots. They despised simplicity because it was demanding, because it wouldn't give them an out. The more 'complicated' the person, the easier it was for them to justify doing whatever they pleased.

Takashi wasn't capable of that. In any matter, from the smallest to the greatest, all parts of him needed to be in alignment – body, mind and soul. Both desire and duty. That was the source of his strength. It meant that whatever he committed to, he did so unconditionally, without wavering.

It also meant that when Takashi was in conflict with himself, he was a hot mess. One it was up to Mitsukuni to fix. Being the Haninozuka heir came with its own duties and obligations.

The only question was which role he needed to play. Which one would be best for pulling his cousin out of the corner he'd painted himself into.

The relationship between the two of them had many layers. Cousins, friends, classmates, _daimyo_ and vassal, sparring partners, guardian and ward… none more or less important than the other. Each with their own intricacies. They'd grown up with it and had become used to it, so accustomed to switching between the roles they played that it was second-nature. If Natsumi was at the root of this, then 'friend' wouldn't work. There were secrets a man would keep about his bride, about their relationship, even from the closest of friends. But Takashi would hide nothing from his _daimyo._ Not if it affected his ability to serve.

Right. 'Lord' it was. Mitsukuni hated having to pull this one out, it forced him to act so much harsher than he liked to be. And it was a bit manipulative. Well, more than a bit. But if it was for Takashi's good, he would make the sacrifice.

"What's wrong, Takashi, can't you focus," he chirped as innocently as a child. It would make the guilt hit even harder. "Are you sleepy? Do you need to take a nap?"

"I'm sorry, Mitsukuni." Takashi bowed so low it was almost in two. Good, it was already working. "I was distracted."

"Oh." Mitsukuni opened his eyes wide and blinked them cherubically. "That's troubling. If you can't fight anymore, I need to look for a new sparring partner. It's no good if I get weak too." Straightening in a way that made him look taller and more imposing, he let the darker part of himself out in a growl, "If you're going to be like this, you're no good to anyone."

Bowing his exit to the scroll at the front, Mitsukuni turned and headed out of the private Haninozuka family dojo they held their daily sparring sessions in. A quick stop by the benches in the entry area netted him a towel and a bottle of water before he walked out the doors, left open to allow what little afternoon breeze existed to cool the air inside from suffocating down to merely stifling, and plopped down on the edge of the _engawa._

Feet dangling over the side, he crossed his ankles and pumped his legs back and forth like it was a swing while leaning back on his arms. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but it would look cute to anyone watching from the house. That was what was important. Flicking open the top of the water bottle with his thumb, he guzzled half of it down in one gulp.

Not long after, Takashi emerged from the dojo and settled down beside him. In _seiza_ , of course. That stoic demeanor hid a melodramatic streak almost as wide as Tamaki's. Predictably, his next action was to press his palms to the ground, bow low, and formally apologize for his distraction.

Mitsukuni heroically refrained from giggling, Takashi's earnestness was, in its own way, very cute. He really hoped this girl was worth all the fuss. If she was putting his cousin through this for nothing, he wouldn't easily forgive her.

Swinging his legs around and looping his arms around them, Mitsukuni rested his chin on his knees. "I don't want to interfere, Takashi." Playing the _daimyo_ had its intended effect, leaving him free to be the caring cousin and best friend again. "But I think that if you didn't want to talk about it, you wouldn't have entered the dojo in this state." Tilting his head, quizzically, he half asked and half ordered, "What happened?"

And then, he waited. The trick to getting Takashi to talk was to resist the urge to fill the silence yourself.

Five minutes.

Six.

Sev…

"I asked Otou-san to break the engagement." Slowly, using words as sparingly and precisely as a _sumi-e_ painter, Takashi related everything that had happened since Natsumi's arrival until this morning. The aquarium. The party. The secret family history. In Mitsukuni's opinion, it was an awful lot of drama. Worse than one of those fifty-episode shows from China.

No wonder Takashi was off balance – clearly this girl was unsuitable for someone like him. Not wanting her as a wife, but feeling compelled by centuries of tradition to go through with it? Then add all that 'I failed my brother's child' pressure from Uncle Akira…

But… wait. Was that _really_ what he'd heard Takashi say? There was definitely a conflict between his cousin's heart and his sense of duty, but maybe Mitukuni had got it the wrong way around. Maybe Takashi had too.

This required verification. In his sweetest, floweriest voice, he asked, "What's Mi-chan like?"

"Natsumi." The rebuke was mild, but seemed to spew straight from Takashi's gut to his mouth, bypassing his brain and startling himself most of all.

Excitement coursed through Mitsukuni, sparking in little bursts like a string of firecrackers. "What's _Natsumi_ -chan like?" He asked again, taking particular care to stress the non-diminutive.

"Hedgehog," Takashi stated without hesitation. Frowning, he shook his head. "No. Porcupine."

"I get it." Mitsukuni almost laughed but settled for a grin. "It's 'cause hedgehogs prick when they're scared but porcupines can hurt you without meaning to?"

"Hn."

"Well, no wonder your distracted, Takashi. You aren't being honest about your feelings." Judgement rendered, Mitsukuni jumped down from the _engawa_ and stretched his arms over his head. "Time for my afternoon snack." Flashing a pixie smile at his cousin over his shoulder, he drawled, "You still owe me a match, be ready to face me properly when I get back, 'kay?"

He'd done what he could, now it was up to Takashi to figure it out his own. Gods, that was rough. Hopefully he'd never have to do that again. He definitely wouldn't go that easy on his cousin next time.

~oOoOo~

Takashi's brow furrowed as he watched his cousin skip happily off to the main house. Not honest about his feelings? That… didn't make any sense. Trying to be honest about his feelings was what had him so confused in the first place.

But Mitsukuni was usually right about this sort of thing.

Not honest with his feelings… he needed to think things through again from the beginning. His shoulders straightened, his hands curled and rested lightly on his thighs, his body unconsciously assuming a meditative pose. His breath deepened. In…two, three, four. And hold. Out…two, three, four. And again. In…two, three, four. And hold. Out…two, three, four. Again. And again. And yet again. Until he felt the piece of him deep inside, the very center-most of his being, still. Becoming as calm and motionless as a mountain lake. Perfectly reflecting back anything it was shown.

First, Takashi set aside the question of duty. That was where he'd always gone wrong before. What his duty to Natsumi was could only be determined after he answered the one question he hadn't asked – how did he feel about her.

 _Jealousy. Betrayal._

Instead of shoving those feelings aside, he acknowledged them. Accepted them as part of himself. She'd kissed another man. He suspected she'd done more than kiss - if not last night than certainly before. Fairly or unfairly, a part of him had expected her to remember him. To treasure their engagement as he had. But she hadn't known. Even if she had, the promise had been between their fathers not between them. He was hurt, but he could choose to let it go.

And, with that thought, he did – releasing the hold his heart had placed on the feeling and letting it float away. Next?

 _Resentment. Rejection._

She'd pushed aside every overture of friendship he'd made. That pain was less than it had been, now that he knew its source. He couldn't approve of Natsumi's behavior, or condone it, but he understood it. And he knew now that it wasn't personal. She was exactly like a feral kitten. A pampered family pet that had been shoved out into the cold and rain without warning or explanation. One that would scratch and bite at anyone who came near, no matter whether their intention was to hurt or help.

He'd always been good with injured creatures. If his father was right, if the girl he remembered was still there, buried under years of hurt and neglect, he could help Natsumi rediscover herself. He _would_ help her, regardless of whether he married her. And not out of duty, he simply couldn't turn away from someone he knew was in pain.

Breathing deeply, he let go of those feelings on his exhale. Next?

Cleared of all the things which had been cluttering his spirit, the truth was finally revealed. Takashi's eyes snapped open in surprise. Oh, he had gotten it wrong. Very, very wrong. Almost exactly backwards.

An elfin giggle pulled his attention to the right. Mitsukuni was back already. Had his meditation really taken that long or had Mitsukuni just inhaled his cake that fast?

Stupid question.

Hands clasped behind his back, the little blonde rocked back and forth on his feet. The sparkling eyes and self-satisfied grin said he already knew the secret Takashi had just discovered.

"How did you know?" Takashi asked.

Laughing delightedly, Mitsukuni launched from standing into a triple flip that landed him on the _engawa._ "Because _you_ want to be the one to call her Mi-chan." Mitsukuni grinned infectiously. "And you think porcupines are cute." Dropping to a crouch, he peered up at Takashi. "What do you plan to do?"

There were any number of things he could do, so many ways to act on his feelings, but only one felt right. The one he should have done from the start. "Move into the Northeast wing."

Mitsukuni's eyes widened and Takashi choked back a snort. It was nice to know he could still surprise his precocious little cousin. Ever since his predictions about how Haruhi would affect the other host club members had come true, Mitsukuni had been getting a little smug.

"Are you sure?" The boy asked tremulous, "I know you want to help her, but you could do it just as much by being her friend."

At peace with himself for the first time in days, Takashi smiled. "I don't want to be her friend."

Because _that_ was the truth at the center of all his struggles. No matter what his head said, in his heart he felt a connection to her. One no less strong than when it had first formed ten years ago.

It wasn't love, not yet, that sort of thing took time. But neither was it something he could ignore. Above his duty to his family, above his duty to Natsumi, he had a duty first to himself. A duty to discover if whatever it was he felt _could_ grow into something more.

And he damn well wasn't going to do that as her brother. The Hitachiin twins had already cornered the market on incest.

In one move, Takashi switched from _seiza_ to standing. "Training first." It was the only way to wipe that all-knowing look off his cousin's face.

"Are you sure you're ready, Takashi?" Mitsukuni chirruped ingenuously on their way back inside the dojo, "I wouldn't want to give you another concussion."

"Look after yourself," Takashi bantered back, "Fighting after eating gives you a stomach ache."

A workout was just the thing to get the rest of the kinks out of soul. After that he'd inform his father of his decision and then, at last, he and Natsumi would have a long overdue chat.

~oOoOo~

There was an English saying Takashi had heard once about 'best laid plans.' The Japanese equivalent was less succinct - 'If you speak of tomorrow, the rats in the ceiling will laugh.' Starting at the note in his hand, he realized both accurately summed up his current state.

Natsumi was gone.

Not sulking in an unused room. Not hiding in a tree with a book. Gone. Vanished. Without even the guards at the gates having seen her go.

And all she'd left was a note on his desk:

 _Takashi_ _(crossed out)_

 _Morinozuka-san,_

 _I'm sorry. I am breaking our engagement. Please know this is something I decided on my own - you and your family have been wonderful_ _(crossed out)_

 _nice (crossed out)_

 _good to me._

 _I'm leaving this letter as proof that I am the one breaking the marriage contract._

 _I don't want this to be awkward, I'll be staying with a friend for the rest of the summer._

 _I'm sorry for troubling you,_

 _Natsu (crossed out) Yoshida_

And, at the bottom, in tiny, hastily written characters:

 _P.S. Thank you for the otters._

It was pointed, concise, and absolved him of any guilt or obligation. And every word of it was a lie.

She knew what he'd asked his father. The scuffing in the hallway he'd heard earlier had to have been her. Poor little porcupine, it must have felt like another family had cast her out. Well, if she thought he'd allow her to run away, then she really didn't know a thing about what it meant to be a Morinozuka. Since she was going to be one, this was as good a time as any to learn that Morinozukas didn't leave a family member behind.

Slipping his cell phone out of his pocket, he thumbed the contact third on his list after 'home' and 'Mitsukuni.' As soon as the call was answered, he got straight to the point. "Kyoya-kun, I need your help…"

* * *

 **A/N** : Another late as late could be update. I could blame work and the beginning of dance season, but let's face it - the borderline smutty Ouran AU (which will NEVER see the light of day) that keeps hijacking my plot lines is the real culprit.

I also wanted to write this chapter and the next one together as they represent the climax of the first act. All I have left on that is the editing so hopefully it will be up soon(ish).

This chapter was fun – it was the first tie I got to write an extensive section from Honey's POV. I often see him portrayed as very innocent and naïve, but I truly believe he is possibly the most complicated character in the Ouran-verse. Even more so than Kyoya. This will not be the last time I try to write things from his perspective, including the 'Reiko' events.

Big thank yous to everyone who has favorited and followed and especially to those who have left a review or checked in to see if I had abandoned this story. I deeply appreciate this community and thank you for sticking with me on this story.

 **Chapter Title Trope Reference:** Sins of the Father - not used in the text, but I think it summarizes the Morinozuka/Yoshisa/Maeda relationship well. Involves all situations both where a child is punished for the sins of the parent, or where a child takes it on themselves to atone for their parent's mistakes.


	7. Idiot Ball

" **My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes."**

 _-Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery_

 _Break… Engagement… Please… Break… Please...Allow_

The words she'd heard hours ago kept ping-ponging around Natsumi's brain, ricocheting off the empty hole in her soul, drowning out the sounds of the people and cars thronging the streets of Shibuya. It was her own fault, she'd known it was coming. In three short days, how could she allow herself to forget all the lessons of the previous ten years? Stupid. Stupid.

 _Stupid… Stupid… Please… Engagement… Stupid… Break... Stupid_

After hearing them, all she could do was flee. Grab her things and slip out one of the side gates with the exiting students. Unable to come up with any better direction, she'd blindly ridden the subway for hours, eventually washing up here. The perfect place to lose herself among the crowd. To become as invisible in body as she felt in her spirit.

What was she supposed to do now? She couldn't go back, there was no back to go to. And she couldn't stay here – it was too close to Hachiko Square and the police _koban_ next to it. Not being in her school uniform would help her fly under the radar for a while, but the later it got the more she risked attracting unwanted attention. Movie theaters, arcades, internet cafes and karaoke places were already checking IDs to be sure none of their patrons were young enough to be violating curfew.

The only choice was to move on, to find a place she could lurk inconspicuously for an hour. Or two. Someplace she could slink around unnoticed until morning. Ruthlessly, she ignored the little voice at the back of her head asking ' _what then?'_

Hoisting the strap of the backpack containing everything she still owned further up her shoulder, she headed in a vaguely Northwestern direction. After a five-minute walk, she found a low, black marble wall some storefront had put up as a beautification effort. She couldn't sit on it, the top narrowed to a point to discourage loitering, but it made a good place to lean against while acting like she was waiting for someone to join her any minute now.

No one would be. Even if her cell phone hadn't run out of power several hours ago, even if she hadn't failed to pack her charger, even if she had more than two hundred yen in her pocket to pay for charging time in a café, there was no one to call. All she could do is pull out the useless thing and stare at it, moving her finger over it every now and then on the off chance someone cared enough to notice what she was doing.

 _Please… Engagement… Break… Stupid… Stupid… Please… Allow_

She didn't blame Takashi, it was to his credit he hadn't asked sooner. But then he didn't know the truth about her. The truth she'd only figured out herself three years ago.

There was something wrong with her.

That was the only explanation. In twenty-odd boarding schools she'd met many types of kids, none of them like her. There were those who were praised for doing good and punished for doing bad, super-achievers whose accomplishments were ignored and were scolded for coming in second place, and psychopathic delinquents whose every criminal act was excused and every want indulged.

And then there was her. Unimportant. Unwanted. No good.

At first that knowledge had depressed her, made her try to be better. Try to be perfect. Finally, she accepted it, reveled in the freedom it gave her. Most of the time. The few times she didn't, she ended up here - in the emptiness beyond mere sadness or unhappiness. Out in the Void.

There was a reason she preferred fantasy to reality. Once the illusions were ripped away, nothing of substance remained. Just a deep, yawning pit inside her that consumed everything until she felt as hollowed out and empty as a ghost.

"Excuse me."

Natsumi's head snapped up to meet a trio of faces staring down at her, their smiles ranging from flashy (guy on the right), to awkward (center), to earnest (left).

How long had she been standing there, her thoughts spiraling further downward with each new cycle? It had felt like minutes but, looking around, the night seemed later. Shibuya had grown even more crowded, the people streaming past taking on the frenetic energy of people who'd fueled up at an _izakaya_ and were ready to hit the bars and clubs.

The three men who'd interrupted her brooding were only a little older than her. With hair too long for salarymen, Natsumi mentally pegged them as university students. But not from around here, not with those clothes. Their efforts to dress stylish were just a bit off. Not cutting edge, not even high-end department store trendy, every item they wore looked like a cheap knock-off of last year's styles.

"Um, do you think you can help us? We're kind of lost." The designated spokesman (center) lifted an arm covered in wristbands and rubbed the back of his neck. The admission tinged his cheeks almost as pink as her hair.

"We're trying to go here." The boy on the left, thin and wiry with glasses and a nervous air that made her think of a rabbit, thrust a guidebook under her and pointed to an entry for a nightclub she vaguely recognized as popular. "Do you know it? How far away is it? Is it as good as the book says?"

"Oi, Kota, back off. Give the girl a chance to breathe." The pretty boy on the right flashed a smile that probably worked on most women. Unlike the others, his hair had highlights and, when he tucked a piece of it behind his ear, she glimpsed an earring. "Sorry," he winked, "We're visiting from Toyama. He's a bit overwhelmed."

It might be legit, they didn't seem like the kind who harassed random single girls on the street. Either way, best to send them on their way quickly. "Sorry," she shrugged, "I don't know the area. Just waiting for my boyfriend. He'll be here soon."

"Boyfriend?" Flashy made a show of looking around. "Not a very good one if he leaves his cute girlfriend standing alone on the street late at night. Hey," he exclaimed, taking one step forward right into her personal space, "Why don't you come with us? Text him to meet you at the club."

"Oh, good idea!" Glasses nodded enthusiastically, brandishing his book like a holy relic. "She can point out all the best places to visit!"

"Really, Soshi?" Spokesman crossed his arms and shook his head, the laugh in his voice undermining his scold. "You've descended to picking up girls on the street now?"

"I'm just doing my duty as a man." The self-proclaimed savior draped an arm over Natsumi's shoulders. "You want us to leave her out here alone? Anything could happen." This close, she could smell the beer on his breath.

They weren't drunk, not yet, they were just at the point where 'tipsy' became 'troublesome.' Right now, they were having fun. Playing a harmless game of flirtation. But even good guys could get carried away, go from puppies to wolves without warning. Resisting would mark her as prey - and attract the official attention she was trying to avoid.

She knew one way to stop this - pretend to be an even bigger predator. A pack of wolves would be scared off by a tiger.

Shrugging off the arm, she turned what she hoped was a sufficiently jaded and world-weary look on them. "Thirty-thousand yen," she drawled slowly, letting her implication sink in, "Each."

Flashy's eyes widened and a blush crept up from his neck all the way to the top of his head. She almost laughed, not so worldly after all, was he? "Are… are you serious?" His voice rose so high on the question it squeaked.

She raised an eyebrow, daring them to call her bluff.

"C'mon, let's go find that club Kota's been going on about." Spokesman grabbed his friends by the back of their collars and started pulling them away. "Sorry to trouble you." The corner of his mouth tipped up knowingly as he apologized. She didn't think he believed her. That didn't matter, she just needed him to take the hint and go away.

"Wait… why are we leaving?" Glasses' protests could be heard from almost a block away. "And thirty-thousand for what?"

Watching their backs as they walked off, she felt a brief pang of regret. Doing that to them had been a little cruel. Hopefully they'd have enough fun the rest of the night to write it off as part of a wild vacation in Tokyo. Maybe she should have gone with them, at least for a while. Staying on the streets until morning was growing less appealing by the minute. If she were in a group, surely it wouldn't be too hard to find a late-night café or _izakaya_ that would fail to check for her age.

At the thought of food, her stomach growled, reminding her that her last meal was at the aquarium yesterday. Pushing her hand against it to quiet the rumbling, she did her best to ignore it.

"Forty-thousand." The softly spoken drawl coming from her right was every bit as slow and nonchalant as her own had been.

Natsumi whipped her head around to confront the speaker. Black suit pants, light blue shirt open at the collar, no tie, laptop case in his hand, florid complexion - a salary man working and drinking away his weekend. Overweight and balding at the temples, his aviator-style glasses emphasized the deep lines around his mouth, giving him a strong resemblance to a basset hound.

Tightening her grip on her backpack, she instinctively started to back away. This man wouldn't scare, he'd already seen through her act. "You misunderstood," she insisted with steel in her voice.

"Did I?" he asked, the frown making his wrinkles deeper, "Is it the price? I'll go to fifty. It's a fair offer for an hour of your time." He upped the price casually, without a single change to his mild and inoffensive demeanor. As if negotiating with a girl on a sidewalk for sex was a completely normal, unobjectionable occurrence.

"I don't…" Natsumi's stomach interjected with a large growl, cutting off the rest of her refusal.

The man smiled slightly, tilting his head so light flashed off his glasses. "I'll throw in a meal," he teased gently. Face sobering, he said, "I've been watching you from that _izakaya_ across the street, you've been standing out her for forty-five minutes. You aren't waiting for someone, you have nowhere to go." He shrugged. "Neither do I. Not really. We can keep each other company. There's no harm in that."

A numbing realization washed over her, there was no good reason to say no. No home to go to. No friends to stay with. No money in her pocket. No real choice at all.

It was only a simple business transaction – give him what he wanted, get something she needed. And it wasn't like it was that much different from what she'd done before, trading her body for the pretense of affection. And, unlike the illusion of love she was normally paid in, money could buy a meal in the morning or a place to sleep at night.

Why not? She'd known since she was six that she was a bad girl, maybe it was time to grow up and finally accept it.

"I want the room for the night." There was a perverse sense of peace in giving in. In allowing herself to sink deeper into the Void instead of struggling against it. "And a bottle of sake," she added as an afterthought. Aside from that first time, she'd never done this kind of thing sober.

The man's smile broadened and he jerked his head, accepting her terms. Gesturing with his arm, he indicated the direction and she fell in beside him, walking in silence into the heart of Shibuya. Every step further encasing her mind, her senses, in a thick fog that nothing could penetrate. The bright lights dimmed, the din of the bustling city faded away, and soon enough even the heat of the August couldn't reach her.

~oOoOo~

A red gate marked the place where they turned off the main road and onto the warren-like side streets of Shibuya, a remnant of this neighborhood's popularity half a century ago. Now, tourists bypassed it in favor of what was newer and more popular, leaving only the locals to clog the bars and ramen shops. They passed right by all of those.

Further up the hill, the storefronts changed. There weren't any streetlights, but none were needed. Not a single building on either side was dark. In front of each, illuminated signs flashed different rates - one to 'rest' and one to 'stay.' The man seemed familiar with the route, he didn't stop and browse at any of the hotels. Wordlessly, he guided her deeper into the area, directing her at each point where to turn; right, then left, then left again, every turn taking them on to narrower and more deserted streets.

"Careful," he said as they turned onto another street, one so small only a moped could pass, "The pavers here can be uneven." As if to guide her over the treacherous ground, he placed his hand on the center of her back.

The action jolted Natsumi back in time. Yesterday. The aquarium. They'd been walking along on the second floor, her face buried in the map as she checked to be sure there was nothing they'd missed. She'd been so absorbed, she hadn't noticed a gaggle of middle schoolers blocking the way. Takashi had placed his hand in that exact same spot to steer her around them. She vividly remembered the feel of it. How heat had radiated out from every finger, wrapping around her body like a cozy blanket on a snowy day. Making her feel looked after. Cared for. Safe.

This hand just felt damp. And so, so _wrong._

Trying to escape it, her steps quickened, then slowed, then quickened – her body in a tug-of-war with itself. In disgust, her feet decided to go on strike and stopped moving all together.

The man didn't notice.

Natsumi looked up, they'd reached his destination. The hotel in front of her was smaller than the ones they'd passed, less brightly lit. A stone lattice fence screened the entrance from view, behind it she could just make out a kiosk allowing customers to select and pay for rooms without going into a lobby. The rest of the street was quiet, no other businesses were open and they'd left the other late-night revelers far behind.

"This is it," he confirmed, "Come on, I'll let you pick the room." Adjusting his grip, the man slid his hand up to her elbow. The touch of his fingers on her bare skin shocked through her, worse than having a bucket of ice water poured over her head. The fog dulling her senses shattered, dissolving away in an instant.

What the hell was she doing?

Just how stupid could she be? It was like... like she'd been carrying the idiot ball ever since she'd walked down that hallway and heard Takashi's plea. She hadn't even waited around to hear his father's answer – just grabbed her stuff and bolted. No plans beyond getting as far away from the pain as she could.

But that was impossible, because the pain was the first thing that she took with her.

Even as she'd run, she'd known it was ridiculous to be so upset. It was unreasonable. He was right to reject her, she'd known he would… but it had hurt all the same. Damn it, she'd just had to go and break rule one and become attached to him. To all of them. She'd had to go and start liking the Morinozukas. Even worse? She'd wanted them to like her.

Oh, god, now that she put it that way, she was even dumber than she'd thought.

Because if she hadn't been running from the hurt, if she hadn't been trying to escape the feeling of rejection, then that left only one thing to try and get away from - herself. From the knowledge of who she was. From the shame of the kind of person she'd become. No matter how often she told herself that she was a bad girl, there was a part of her who hadn't believed it. Not until she'd seen herself reflected in a good man's eyes.

But the only thing more moronic than what she'd done so far would be to let herself stay that way.

If there was one thing books had taught her, it was that it was never too late. Oh, not the engagement – that was dead and gone – but it wasn't too late for her to change. To become, if not someone Takashi could marry, then someone he could be proud of.

But not if she did this.

Some lines couldn't be crossed. Not because there was no forgiveness, but because the Natsumi who walked out of that building wouldn't be the one who walked in. _That_ Natsumi, it just might be too late for.

"Sorry, but I've changed my mind." She slid out of his grasp, turning her back on the hotel even as she spoke.

"What?" The salaryman cried, his tone much sharper than it had been earlier, "We had a deal!"

Jerking her head around to face him, Natsumi saw his eyes narrow and mouth twist in a sneer, the innocuous lines of his basset hound face turning into a cruel and menacing _oni_ mask. Fear lacing through her, she moved quickly to step away from him.

She was too slow.

Dropping his briefcase, the man grabbed her right wrist, his hand wrapping around it as tight as a steel band. "Oh no, you don't get to back out on me," he snarled. With a force that threatened to wrench her arm from its socket, he began pulling her towards the hotel entrance.

Natsumi looked around her frantically, but the streets were deserted. He'd taken her too far away from the main roads for there to be any help. Digging her heels in didn't work, he had to outweigh her by at least seventy-five kilos.

Desperate, she did the only thing she could think of – she stopped resisting, letting the momentum jerk her forward. As soon as she was in range, she bent over and bit down on his hand. Hard. Enough to taste blood.

That did it. He released her with a yelp and clutched his injured hand to his chest. Natsumi wasn't prepared, she stumbled backward and fell on her ass. Scurrying on her hands and feet like a crab, she scrambled to turn over and get to her feet, breaking into a run even as she rose.

Three steps into her flight, she felt a tug on her backpack. Without breaking her stride, she let it slide off her shoulders and continued to run down the hill as fast as she could. Eyes glued to the ground to keep from stumbling, she barely registered the hotel fronts as she passed. One. Two. Turn right onto this street. Three. Four. Another right. Almost there. Next will be left then back to the main street. Five. Six. Sev…

"Ow!" Natsumi slammed into something solid, pain flaring in the center of her forehead. For the second time that night, she was knocked down to the ground. This time, the impact took her breath with it.

"Oh! Excuse me, are you all right Ojou-san?" A hand appeared in front of Natsumi's face, palm open to help her to her feet. "That was quite a fall."

Thank the gods, she'd made it back to the crowds. The salaryman would be forced to abandon his chase and she could… she could go back.

Thinking clearly for the first time all day, Natsumi formed a tentative, hopeful, plan. She'd return to the Morinozukas, swallow her pride, apologize, and throw herself on their mercy. Maybe, just maybe, they'd let her stay – at least long enough to figure out where to go next. Heck, maybe she could get a job with them. It was a big estate; they could probably use another maid.

"Thank you." Grabbing the hand, she let her rescuer pull her up. "I'm sorry for…" Lifting her head to apologize for bumping into him, Natsumi found a smiling, middle-aged face under a blue hat bearing a gold emblem.

Her half-formed dreams that everything would be all right vanished in a puff of smoke.

Looking up the hill behind her, she saw a second policeman, young and fit enough to sprint up the steep incline without getting winded, had cornered the salaryman and was in the process of escorting him down to their location. Insistently. His hand twisting one of the older man's arms behind his back to ensure compliance.

Natsumi forced a swallow past the lump in her throat. Maybe this was salvageable. She just needed to talk them into letting the both of them go.

"Officer, there's been a misunderstanding…" The salaryman sputtered protestations of innocence all the way through his forced march. Ignoring him, the young officer reached into the salaryman's pocket and extracted a wallet, which he handed to his senior who opened it and wrote down the identity card information in his notebook.

After handing the wallet back, the older policeman turned to address her. "Miss, I'm Officer Sakurada and this is my partner Officer Idane." He had a kind face and sharp eyes. She doubted much got past him. "Was this man troubling you? You were running very fast."

The salaryman looked gratifyingly terrified; sweat beaded on his temples. Fortunately for him, she didn't want the police involved any more than he did. "My boyfriend and I just had a fight, that's all." She tried to signal him with her eyes to back up her story. "I was annoyed he tried to take me to some cheap love hotel instead of a nicer place."

Her would-be assailant practically sagged with relief. Idiot. He was going to give everything away if he didn't sharpen up.

"I see, lover's quarrel, neh?" The older man grinned. "You need to treasure her more," he jovially berated the salaryman, "Young girls these days like a bit more romance."

"Yes. Yes." The man nodded so fervently his head would have flown off if it were less attached to his neck.

"I don't want to press charges or anything," Natsumi interjected before the fool could raise suspicions, "We can go, right?"

"Of course." Officer Sakurada flipped his notebook closed. "I just need to see some ID first, miss."

Shit.

~oOoOo~

"Natsumi-chan, I'm going to make some tea. Would you like some?" Brushing away imaginary crumbs off her police-blue skirt, the young woman they'd left her with stood up from her chair. Unable to muster enough energy to talk, Natsumi could only shake her head.

The woman hesitated, mouth open like she wanted to say something, then changed her mind. Walking past the sofa Natsumi hunched on, she headed back to the kitchenette at the back of the room.

Good. Natasumi didn't think she could take any more well-meaning platitudes, exhortations, or lectures. The girl seemed nice, but she was far too innocent and naïve for her job. She'd stammered and blushed all the way through the 'guidance' she'd been tasked to give Natsumi on the perils of 'compensated dating.'

Natsumi could have told her not to bother, she'd already figured that out for herself.

As soon as she'd handed over her ID, things had been out of her control. Keeping her mouth shut, didn't help - too many cameras, too many helpful witnesses to her panicked flight. It was simple enough for the cops to piece together what had (almost) happened.

At least she wasn't under arrest, that was the one bright spot in the whole cluster-fuck of a mess she'd gotten herself into. The salaryman hadn't been so lucky. She was sixteen, he was fifty-eight. So, while he'd been carted off in the back of a police car for violating Tokyo's Youth Protection Act, she'd been escorted to the local police _koban_ to wait for someone to pick her up – still in trouble, but more victim than criminal.

All the bad things in life she'd done before now, and it was the one time she'd tried to be good that she'd ended up in police custody. That had to be the textbook definition of situational irony.

At least the upstairs staff break room they'd put her in wasn't the worst place she'd ever been detained. The sofa facing the door was worn and comfortable, clearly well-used. It had been angled slightly, all the better to watch the TV to the right of the door that was playing a 24-hour news station on mute. The kitchenette in the back was neat and tidy with just enough space for a sink, microwave, small refrigerator, and an electric urn filled with hot water. From the clattering coming behind her as the policewoman moved around in it, Natsumi could tell it was well stocked with cups and spoons.

A small table with four chairs had been placed between the kitchenette and sofa. When they'd first entered the room, the policewoman had moved one of the chairs across from where Natsumi sat on the sofa, setting it down at an angle so the two women wouldn't quite face each other directly. Perhaps it was a psychological trick they taught at the academy – a way to keep somebody under guard without making them feel uncomfortable.

Despite the closed windows and lack of air conditioning, the room felt cold. Maybe that was just her. Rubbing her hands against her arms to keep from shivering, Natsumi fought the urge to pull her feet up on the sofa and wrap herself into a ball. It would be rude.

The clock above the break room door was about thirty minutes later than when she'd arrived. She wouldn't have to wait here much longer. Not unless Grandfather wanted to make a point.

"Here, I made some for you, just in case you change your mind." Setting a tray with two cups of green tea on the coffee table between them, the policewoman then took one of them and settled back in her chair. Following the direction of Natsumi's gaze she smiled wanly. "I'm sure your family will be here soon."

No, they wouldn't. Oh, someone would arrive, but it would be a stranger. A flunky with a disapproving stare who wouldn't answer any of her questions. He would only cart her off to a car, every bit as black as his suit, and take her back to that hell-hole of a school.

That is, unless Grandfather had found somewhere worse. Like a Chinese prison.

On second thought, a Chinese prison probably wouldn't make her 'meditate' under a freezing waterfall, so it was probably a toss-up.

The clock ticked, softly at first, growing louder with each beat until it rivaled the rushing noise of the traffic outside the window. Yet still not loud enough to drown out her thoughts. Of all the bad things she'd done, this was hands down the worst. Whatever pathetic little hopes and plans she'd started to build about living a different life, being a different person, were laid to ruin before she'd even started. By all rights, she should be a miserable, whimpering, sopping, wet mass of depression right now.

But she wasn't.

Instead she felt… buoyant. Like a ball of light was wedged right underneath her sternum. Whatever else she was, whatever else she'd done, she'd made one right choice. Done one thing she could be proud of. It wasn't much, but it was hers. And it was something she could cling to, even if she did end up in a Chinese prison.

 _Slam!_

The door flew open, and both women jumped to their feet.

A figure filled the doorway, blocking out the light. "Ojii-sama?" Natsumi blurted out, uncertain. That was him, right? He looked older than the pictures she got when she Googled his name, shorter than her memory, but his eyes were every bit as hard and disapproving as the last time she'd seen him.

"Foolish, ungrateful, child!" Maeda Tatsuo strode into the room, an unstoppable juggernaut of rage. Swinging his arm back as he walked, he used the momentum of his last steps to slam his open palm against her face with full force.

Natsumi's head snapped to the side under the blow, her eyes watering from the pain. Cupping her cheek with her hand, she pushed against it to stem the swelling she could already feel growing, to ease the ache radiating out from her cheek to her temple.

Her grandfather drew his arm back again and she forced herself to drop her hand. Squaring her shoulders, she prepared herself to take whatever punishment he dished out. Before he could deliver another ringing slap, the policewoman threw herself between them, arms outstretched and cried out, "No! Stop!"

"Maeda-san, please remember where we are," Officer Sakurada said more mildly, materializing behind Natsumi's grandfather. "Please, sir, this is not the time or place to argue with your granddaughter."

Maeda hesitated, the urge to strike her again radiating in every line of his body, but his sense of discretion won out and he dropped his arm. The young policewoman held her position for a second longer only moving aside at a stern look from her supervisor.

"Good. That's good." Officer Sakurada smiled, "Difficult things are easier to discuss if everyone is calm." Gesturing at the far end of the sofa, he added, "Please sit, Maeda-san, would you like a cup of tea."

The septuagenarian made a show of adjusting the cuffs of the white dress-shirt he'd put on; every inch the company chairman, even in the middle of the night. "There's no need," he stated tersely, "I have no intention of involving myself in this matter any further."

The expression he turned on Natsumi held no more warmth or regard than if she were a cockroach. "You've brought nothing but shame on this family since the moment of your birth. You had one purpose, one way to redeem yourself – give birth to a great-grandson I could be proud of. Now you've destroyed your chance of doing even that." He shook his head in disgust. "Selling yourself on the street, no better than a common whore - what noble family would want someone like you once this gets out?" The corner of his mouth lifted in a sneer. "At least now I no longer have any reason to put up with you staining my family honor."

Turning to Officer Sakurada he said, "Do what you want with her, this… this…" He stopped unable to even find the right insult to describe her. "Is no longer my granddaughter. She's of no further use to me." Pivoting on his heel, he stormed out of the room.

"Sir… Maeda-san.. please wait…" Officer Sakurada raced after him, visibly distressed at what had happened. Poor man, he probably thought he could change grandfather's mind.

He wouldn't.

That was one of the things she remembered from the few times she'd been allowed to visit him as a child. When a Maeda made a decision, they committed to it irrevocably. It was the family motto; complete with a framed scroll of the Chinese proverb 'Break the Kettles and Sink the Boats' hanging on the wall.

The policewoman stared after her boss' back, helplessly wringing her hands. With a muttered 'excuse me' she darted out of the door after him, shutting it behind her.

They must have stopped her grandfather in the bullpen outside the break room, before he went back downstairs. Natsumi could hear the low sounds of the policewoman pleading, answering snarls from her grandfather, and the placating tones of Officer Sakurada.

It was nice of them to try, even if it wouldn't do any good.

Sinking back on to the sofa, Natsumi pulled her feet up, hugged her legs to her chest, and buried her face in her knees. _Now_ the depression she'd held off earlier pressed in, circling around her predatorily, testing her defenses for weakness. Squeezing her eyes shut, she rocked back and forth, a child's act of self-comfort.

 _"One right choice,"_ she whispered a thin and feeble invocation against the Void trying to consume her, _"I made one right choice."_

~oOoOo~

The clock ticked on, but not loudly enough to muffle the conversation going on right outside the door.

"Can he really do that?" Natsumi had no idea when grandfather had finally left, but it must have been long enough ago for the policewoman's emotions to settle. Her question was more plaintive than angry. "Can he really disown her? She's still a kid!"

In Natsumi's experience, grandfather could do whatever the hell he damn well pleased. The rich usually could.

"That's for the lawyers to decide," Sakurada replied wearily, "We just deal with the paperwork."

"What's going to happen to her now?" The policewoman asked the very question running through Natsumi's head.

Saurada sighed heavily. "We'll refer her to the Child Guidance Center in the morning. Hopefully, they can help find another family member to take her in. If not… I don't know. She's over fifteen, I'm not sure what arrangements can be made."

There wasn't any other family. If the state considered her old enough to get a job and live independently, then who knew what would happen to her. Tonight's events might just have been a foreshadowing of her eventual fate.

"Sir!" A new voice joined the chorus of doom. Young and male, probably the officer who'd been on the desk when she'd come in. "This request for assistance just came in from the Black Onion Squad. The description seems to match. Want me to call it in?"

Paper rustled, one man handing it to the other. "No, I'll do it." Sakurada's voice grew fainter, his footsteps moving him away from the door. "Poor kid, what the hell have they done to get the Ootoris' attention?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes! I managed to get this one out on time. Next chapter, I'll bring Takashi and Natsumi together finally – was going to do it here but that whole conversation will flow better as part of the next sequence.

Sign you are a slightly obsessive fanfiction writer #58 – you spend about two hours on Google street view trying to figure out exactly where Shibuya's love hotel hill district is and get a feel for the area. I swear my ad feeds are only getting weirder.

 **Chapter Title Trope Reference** : Idiot Ball – Wherein a character is being willfully stupid in order to drive the plot forward. Recognizing their mistake and throwing the idiot ball away can be the hallmark of character development. (c.f. TV Tropes).

Thanks to all the new favoriters, followers, and especially to those who left a review. A few select review responses:

 **Chalice13** – glad Natsumi is growing on you. She has a long way to go but I think she's finally heading in the right direction.

 **JJSprinkle** – thank you. I love hearing which details work and don't work for people, helps me pay attention to how I'm writing.

 **Zemblenity** and **Lemontea-addict** – Not sure Mori has to do much to get her back besides be himself. But I hope to have fun making him try.

 **Akagame hime chan** – Glad you liked the Honey POV, he is precious. That combination of sweet and devious is so much fun to try and write.

For those who asked - the smutty Ouran AU may never see the light of day for the main reason that I've always tried to keep things in the PG-13 camp. All my stories that were somewhat smutty in original concept, I've managed to find a way to tone down to what I deemed acceptable. This particular story, it's intrinsic to the world building so it can't be done.

But I should know by now to never say never. A few years ago it was a weird little daydream about Kyoya and who the perfect girl for him would be that I swore nobody else would ever know about.


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